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LOVELL’S 

WESmiNSTER 

SERIES 


Entered at the Post Office^ New York^ as second class matter. 


v1issing~A Young 

Girl 


BY 

FLORENCE WARDEN 


NEW YORK 

UNITED STATES BOOK COMPANY, 

SUCCESSORS TO 

JOHN W. LOVELL COMPANY 

130 Worth St., cor. Mission Place 

ANNUAL SUBSCRIPTION, $12.00. 


^t’EU WKGKLV. 


SEPTEMBER 8, 1890. 



BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT WITH THE AUTHORS. 


LOVELL’S 

Westminster Series. 


1. Her Last Throw. By the Duchess - - 25 

2. The Moment After. By Kobert Buchanan - 25 

3. The Case op Gen’l Ople and Lady Camper. By 

George Meredith 25 

4. The Story of the Gadsbys. By Rudyard 

Kipling - - - - - - 25 

5. The Doctor s Secret. By Rita - . - 25 

6. The Tale of Chloe. By George Meredith - 25 ^ 

7. The Old Courtyard. By Katherine S. Macquoid 25 

8. Frances Kane’s Fortune. By L. T. Meade - 25 

9. Passion the Plaything. By R. Murray Gilchrist, 25 

10. City and Suburban. By Florence Warden - 25 

11. A Romance op the Wire. By M. Betham- 

Edwards -25 

12. The Havoc of a Smile. By L. B. Walford - 25 

13. The Passion Play at Ober-Ammergau. By Canon 

Farrar - - - - - 25 


Any of the above sent postpaid, on receipt of price, by the publishers, 

UNITED STATES BOOK COMPANY, 

SUCCESSORS TO 

JOHN W. LOVELL COMPANY, 

142 TO 150 WORTH STREET. NEW YORK- 


MISSINCl-A YOUNG GIRL 








" J7 z^ 



- 4 

-5. 


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l:uu/ //'A 

¥ AC 


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fyt^ 

^ JUi-lLr, 

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Westminster Series. 


MISSING-A YOUNG GIRL 


3 


BY 

ELOEENCE WAEDE¥ 

AUTHOR OF “THE HOUSE ON THE MARSH,” 



revel’s mistake,” 


ETC. 




AUTHORIZED EDITION 




NEW YORK 

UNITED STATES BOOK COMPANY 

SUCCESSORS TO' 

JOHN W. LOVELL COMPANY 


150 Worth Street 


Copyright, 1890, 

BY 

UNITED STATES BOOK COMPANY. 


MISSING-A YOUNG GIRL. 


CHAPTER I. 

My dear Amy, she’s five-and-thirty if she’s a 
day ! W ould you have me marry a woman 
seven years older than myself? ” 

In a general way — no, of course not. In 
this particular case — yes, most decidedly. Er- 
nestine Halliday is the youngest woman of five- 
and-thirty (if she is five-and-thirty, which I beg 
leave to doubt) that I ever met. She is a delight- 
ful woman ; she is very rich ; and Americans are 
all the rage now. Why, more than half the best 
marriages are made by Americans, and if Ernest- 
ine chose she could be a countess to-morrow.” 

To-morrow ! No, Amy, my love ; even earls 
and New York heiresses can’t get married with- 
out one whole ‘day’s notice.' And that is by 
special license, which has always seemed to me 
a ridiculous waste of money. Indeed, I’ve made 


6 


MISSING — A YOUNG GIRL. 


up my mind, that if any rich girl ever takes such 
a fancy to me that she offers to huy a special 
license and marry me off-hand, I will beg her to 
calm her impetuosity, consent to wait the twenty- 
one days, and let me have the difference to 
spend.” 

A peal of hearty laughter made Walter Drake 
look round as he finished this declaration. Miss 
Ernestine Halliday, faultlessly dressed in pearl- 
gray silk, with a tiny bonnet to match in which 
was one spray of scarlet blossom, was standing at 
one of the many doors of the tiny salon of Mrs. 
Plunket’s flat, at No. 35, Boulevart Haussmann, 
Paris. The exhibition, the great, noisy, crowded 
Exhibition, was in full swing. Paris was full of 
pleastire-seeking foreigners whose money had 
been pouring for the past three months into 
capacious French pockets. Mrs. Plunket, of 
Eaton Square, more socially important than 
wealthy, and Miss Ernestine Halliday, of Chi- 
cago, more wealthy than socially important, were 
sharing a tiny flat at the top of one of the big 
Boulevart Haussmann houses, the permanent ten- 
ant of which had joined the rest of the Parisians 
proper in giving up their pretty capital during 
the dog-days to the long-suffering foreigner. 
And Mrs. Plunket’s good-looking young brother 
Avas staying with them to serve as escort. 


MISSING — A YOUNG GIRL. 


7 


Miss Halliday was not handsome^ but she was 
as good-looking as she had ever been — which, 
after all, is more than you can say of a pretty 
woman at thirty-five, and she knew how to make 
the very best of herself — which is more than 
you can say of most women at any age. And 
the expression of her dark-skinned face was so 
bright and good-humored that it seemed open to 
question whether young Dr. Drake, if he should 
decide upon throwing her the handkerchief, 
might not have gone further and fared very 
much worse. 

Two things, however, stood in the way. The 
one was Miss Halliday’s money. A few hun- 
dreds a year with one’s wife would be a very 
good thing, but when it came to thousands the 
case was different ; W alter Drake had no fancy 
for the position of becoming merely a rich wom- 
an’s husband. The second obstacle — well, per- 
haps Miss Halliday guessed that too, as she 
certainly did the first. 

At the sound of her laughter he had sprung up 
from his chair, blushing furiously and hoping 
she had not heard the whole of his speech and 
the little bit of talk with his sister which had 
preceded it. But Miss Halliday was one of 
those women who never hear more than they are 
intended to hear, or see more than they are 


8 


2nSSIXG — A YOUNG GIRL. 


wanted to see, and who go through life with the 
reputation of being ‘ awfully nicts ’ in conse- 
cpience. 

“ What dift'erence is this that your brother 
wants to have to spend, Amy?” she asked, 
thereby relieving Walter’s feelings somewhat. 
“ Are we to dine at the ^Palais Royal ’ instead 
of at Br&)ant' s, and then to be left to find con- 
solation in each other’s society while you rush off 
to gamble away ‘ the difference ’ in 'paris-nm- 
fuels f ” 

“ You are going to find your consolation in 
loftier society than mine this evening. Miss Halli- 
day. The Vicomte de Lussac and Monsieixr 
Montferrand are to be your escort to-night.” 

“ But we could find room for you ! ” 

A slight shade of disappointment and annoy- 
ance passed over Miss Halliday’s face, and then 
she threw at him a quick glance, which had the 
effect of making him blush. He answered her 
with his eyes, as if in mock humility, fixed upon 
the ground. 

‘‘You and Amy were both so horribly cruel to 
me last night that I’m sulking, so that you may 
discover my value.” 

“ Why do you young Englishmen look down 
upon young Frenchmen ? I’m sure the vicomte 
^nd kis friend we both very nice little fellow^,” 


MISSING — A YOUNG GIBL. 


9 


Little fellows ! That’s it. I can’t help look- 
ing down upon* them.” 

And why does a tall man always think him- 
self so much better than a short one ? ” 

And why — if we’re all going to ask riddles 
without waiting for the answers/’ broke in Mrs. 
Plunket — are you always dressed before any- 
body else, Ernestine ? ” 

It’s the horrible commercial taint in my blood, 
dear. If my father and grandfather had been 
late at their stores, they would have lost their 
customers ; and the old habit has descended to 
me, though nothing remains of either stores or 
customers save the merry little dollars they 
brought in.” 

W ell, that is quite enough to remember them 
by. Now, if you will promise not to be too un- 
kind to poor Walter for his defection — and he 
T-eally has a bad headache,” said Mrs. Plunket^ 
careGsing her brother’s handsome dark head as he 
leaned back in his easy chair, I’ll go and get 
dressed too. Those young fellows will be here 
in a quarter of an hour. They are as punctual 
as you are.” 

Mrs. Plunket disappeared through one of 
the doors with which the little salon was per- 
forated on all sides ; and her brother was left 
with Miss Halliday. He had an uneasy feeling 


10 


MISSING — A YOUNG GIRL. 


that she had found him out, and he would have 
got away if he could. She sprang up from the 
little cane chair on which she had for a moment 
sat down, and passed Walter on her way to the 
nearest of the two French windows. 

“ A headache, has he, poor fellow ! ” she said, 
with a little mocking glance ; come out on the 
balcony. The sun is not hot now ; the air will 
do you good.” 

Young Dr. Drake’s face, burnt red as it was 
by the sun, grew several shades deeper yet in 
color. 

“ I don’t care for the balcony,” he said, adopt- 
ing an indifferent drawl which, however, was not 
a great success. 

“ Not in the daytime that is, of course,” said 
Miss Halliday, after a pause, softly, so that the 
sound of her words went no further than her 
companion’s ears. 

Walter started, got up, and with all his lan- 
guid affectations suddenly gone, came out after 
her upon the balcony. 

Mrs. Plunket’s flat was at the back of the 
fourth floor of a house which overlooked a narrow 
street at the back of the New Opera House. A 
broad balcony ran from end to end of the suite 
of rooms, and was divided from the balconies of 
the neighbors on each side by a high wall of 


MISSING — A YOUNG GIRL. 


11 


zinc. The two windows o£ the salon opened on 
to the middle of Mrs. Pliinket’s balcony. Miss 
Halliday turned to the left, and tripped past the 
one window of Dr. Drake’s little bedroom and 
then the two of her own. This brought them to 
the zinc wall. She just glanced at it demurely ; 
so, guiltily, did he. 

“ You like to come out here, don’t you,” she 
said, “ to smoke a final cigarette at about half- 
past eleven, just after we have gone to bed ? It 
is just outside my window, you know, and 1 can 
hear you.” 

Yes, he sometimes did stroll out on to the 
balcony for a last cigarette, generally in fact. 
He hoped he did not disturb her. 

‘‘Oh .no, not at ail. You always come so 
quietly, you know. But ” 

There was a pause. Perhaps she meant it to 
be an awkward one, intending to force a con- 
fession. 

“ Dr. Drake, you will think me frightfully 
impertinent.” 

“ Not at all,” said he stiffly. “ If there is any- 
thing you wish to say, pray say it.” 

“ W ell, there is something I want to say ; I 
can’t deny it. Dr. Drake, I didn’t leave school 
yesterday ; I’ve seen a good deal of the world. 
There’s a hole in this zinc : it gets larger every 


12 


MISSING — A YOUNG GIRL, 


day ; you have made it, to look through at some- 
thing — and the something is a woman ! ” 

Walter was speechless. To have been found 
out in this mean and ungentlemanly, or boyish 
and ridiculous, act was beyond measure irritat- 
ing. 

In the midst of his stammering and stuttering 
Miss Halliday gently interrupted him. 

Please, please forgive me. I must go on. I 
know I am insufferably impertinent — ” 

Not at all.” 

But I don’t care,” rejoined Miss Halliday 
with a whimsical look. You know these people 
are in the same house as ourselves. Their doer 
almost faces ours on the landing. Have you ever 
seen the man go in or out?” 

No-o.” 

Have you ever met on the stairs a thin dark 
man, rather tall, but narrow-chested and with a 
stoop, who looks like a Greek ? ” 

I think I have.” 

Well, that is the tenant of the flat opposite 
ours. He calls himself M. Bertin, so the con- 
cierge says. Now Bertin, you know, is the 
French equivalent for Smith or Brown. He 
does not look like a man of the best possible 
character, does he ? ” 

I am afraid my masculine obtuseuess is tog 


MISSING — A YOUNG GIBL. 


13 


great for me to be able to read a man’s char- 
acter as I pass him on the stairs.” 

“ Never mind his character then. But his 

wife ” 

“ She is not his wife.” 

The passionate emphasis with which Walter 
Drake uttered these words startled his companion, 
in spite of the shrewd guess she had made at the 
depth of the interest he took in his pretty 
neighbor. Of course he saw in a moment how 
absurdly he had betrayed himself, and recovering 
his usual rather indifferent manner, he said, with 
an uneasy laugh — 

“ I mean that the object of my admiration — I 
admit there is an object. No doubt you have 
seen her — a very handsome fair-haired girl. 
But she, I say, is not the wife of that hideous 
rascal.” 

‘ Hideous rascal ! ’ Oh, ho ! Then you did 
notice him a little, in passing him on the stairs ? ” 
‘‘Well.” Walter smiled in spite of himself. 
“ He may be an excellent man, but his appear- 
ance is not prepossessing.” 

“ W ell, as I was saying, his wife ” 

“ How do you know she is his wife ? ” 

“ Does she look like his daughter ? However, 
you didn’t let me finish what I was saying. This 
will tell you what the man’s wife is : I cut it out 


14 


MISSING — A YOUNG GIRL. 


of the Figaro two days ago, and have only 
just found opportunity and courage to give it to 
you.” 

She drew from her pocket, and thrust into 
his hand, a tiny cutting from a French news- 
paper. It contained only two short lines, with 
most of the words abbreviated to two or three 
letters, informing the public that La Belle 
Zaida ” cast the horoscope, foretold future events, 
and held her celebrated stances of palmistry 
every day from two o’clock till six. “ Private 
seances from nine till eleven every evening. Ad- 
dress for appointments Madame Bertin, No. 35, 
Boulevart Haussmann.” 

Before W alter Drake, whose French, like that 
of most young University men, was only strong 
enough to enable him to get at the sense of a pop- 
ular novel, had puzzled out the meaning of the ad- 
vertisement, he was alone on the balcony. As he 
put the scrap of paper into his pocket in a tumult 
of passionate excitement, he heard the voices of 
Miss Halliday and his sister welcoming the two 
young Frenchmen. 

He slipped through the open window of his 
bedroom, and remained there until the outer 
door of the flat closed, shutting out the merry 
voices of the party. 


CHAPTER II. 


It was six o’clock. Walter Drake stole out 
upon the balcony with a guilty tread, threw him- 
self into Miss Halliday’s deck-chair with his back 
to the zinc partition, and dived down into the 
pool of circumstance in which he found himself 
engulfed. He was in love : he was found out. 
That was the sum of it. 

He hated Miss Halliday for her warning : he 
despised himself for not heeding it. For in 
spite of the tell-tale advertisement in his pocket, 
in spite of Miss Halliday and common-sense, he 
persisted in a stubborn, stolid, English, fact- 
defying belief that this unknown woman to whom 
he had never even spoken, whom he had meanly 
watched in secret, and w'ho had not so much as 
seen his face, was the pure, innocent girl he had 
chosen to set upon a pinnacle of dreams. Even 
now his heart was beating tenfold faster because 
he knew the moment was approaching when, 


16 


MISSING — A YOUNG GIBL. 


punctual as a clockwork figure, she would come 
out upon her balcony. A hateful thought struck 
him : the hours at which she came out, always 
ten minutes past six in the evening and ten 
minutes past eleven at night, chimed in uncom- 
fortably with the hours named, in that wretched 
advertisement, for the closing of the seances. 

He started in his chair, and the cigar he had 
lighted dropped from his fingers into the street 
below. The light sound of a window being 
opened wider, the rustle of a curtain, then a 
heavy sigh. Walter Drake knew that his un- 
known goddess was out upon her balcony. But 
he would not move. Besides the fact that Miss 
Halliday’s discoveries had made him feel thor- 
oughly ashamed of himself and his secret spying 
on his beautiful neighbor, there suddenly rose up 
in his mind an unpleasant remembrance. On 
the previous night, when he was taking advantage 
of the hole in the zinc wall to indulge in a last 
look at his divinity as she retired indoors, this 
partition had given way at the top, and had 
partly fallen down. Although this accident had 
not occurred without making some noise, the lady 
had gone indoors without even turiiiiig her head 
in his direction. This fact, which had seemed 
strange to him at the time, now suggested that 
she had been all the time conscious of his pres- 


MISSING— A YOUNG GIRL, 


17 


ence. The next moment he blamed himself for 
daring to entertain such a notion. The sound 
of another sigh reached his ears ; another, and 
then he heard suppressed sobs. 

Moved, in spite of all his efforts at self- 
restraint, he started up, and his chair creaked 
loudly. Yet, notwithstanding this unmistakable 
betrayal of the fact that she had a listener, the 
unknown one sobbed again, if anything more 
audibly than before. 

Hot with shame at the thought that he had 
been duped into taking for an innocent girl a 
woman of whom at least it must be said that 
she was an experienced coquette, Walter Drake 
turned to go indoors. But he was too much in 
love, in spite of his new suspicions, to be alto- 
gether wise. Another sigh made him hesitate: 
another smothered sob, and he turned back on to 
the balcony, and then moved, not quite sure yet 
whether he did so with his will or against it, 
towards the partition. 

Once there, the next step was inevitable; he 
looked through at his interesting neighbor. 

There is here and there in the world a rare 
woman Avhose appearance almost absolves men 
from the charge of folly if they fall in love with 
her at first sight. La Belle Zaida ” was one of 
these. Rather tall, very slender, very fair, witli 


18 


MISSING — A YOUNG GIRL. 


a bloodless face from which the roses of early 
youth had fled too soon, hair too pale to be 
called golden, eyes with scarcely enough color to 
be called blue, she had an expression of face so 
irresistibly plaintive that the eye was arrested at 
once. A few more glances into the innocent- 
looking wide-open eyes, at the sweet mouth, and 
a man felt his heart moved in spite of himself 
without a word from her. She was dressed in a 
plain gown of some colorless stuff, not the dress 
of an adventuress, Walter told himself emphati- 
cally, as all his newly formed prejudices gave 
way with a rush at sight of her tears. For she 
was crying, really crying ; her pretty pale face 
was flushed and wet, her eyes were swollen and 
blurred, her lips were trembling. 

Walter’s heart leapt u}). He had been sure 
before that she was unhappy \ with this con- 
firmation of his belief came a i)assionate wish to 
console her. The sunlight, which was still bright, 
struck full upon her face and showed him that 
she was even younger than he had supposed, cer- 
tainly not more than eighteen. An irresistible 
impulse impelled him to speak to her. All sorts 
of wild, romantic ideas about the girl were start- 
ing up in his mind, and among them such a fixed 
belief that she was English that, without hesitation 
or doubt, he addressed her in his native language. 


MISSING — A YOUNG GIRL. 


19 


I — I — beg your pardon/’ lie stammered 
oiit^ I — I hope you’ll forgive my daring to 
speak to you. But — but — I am sure you 
are — that is^ you have — I am afraid you are 
unhappy. And — and — I can’t bear to see it.” 

Good heavens ! Could he have made a more 
idiotic mess of it than he had done ? He was 
ready to cut his tongue out. If he must obtrude 
his uncalled-for sympathy upon her, surely, 
surely, the English language alforded better 
words than those ! 

But the lady took no notice. She went on 
sighing and sobbing as if Walter Drake had 
made his foolish, incoherent speeches at the other 
end of the world. Could it be that her sighs 
and her sobs, Avhich were indeed singularly loud 
for such a refined-looking girl to utter, had filled 
her own ears so effectually as to drown her 
neighbor’s voice? But as Walter asked himself 
this question, the sallow, thin-faced man whose 
appearance he had discussed with Miss Halliday 
appeared at one of the further windows, and 
muttered a few words in a language Walter 
did not understand, accompanying them with an 
impatient stamp of the foot. 

Low as his voice was, the girl turned at once, 
checked her sobs, and with a little quick bend of 
the head, retired into the room from which she 


20 


MISSING— A YOUNG GIRL. 


had come out. The man, with a curious glance, 
looked straight at the zinc partition, and Walter 
guessed that the unprepossessing stranger had 
overheard his own foolish Avords. 

The young doctor’s heart was on fire. This 
fellow had spoken to the girl in the tone he 
would have used to a dog. Unable to trust his 
own discretion, as he felt rather than heard the 
other man’s steps coming along the adjoining 
balcony, Walter retreated into the salon. 

He could not remain indoors ; excited, dis- 
turbed, restless, after a few minutes spent in the 
tiny drawing-room, Avhich he found too small to 
Avalk about in, he snatched up his hat and left 
the flat, slamming the outer door behind him. 
As he did this, he noticed that the door of the 
flat opposite was opened a couple of inches or so, 
and he caught sight of a pair of flashing black 
eyes in the aperture. They Avere those of Mon- 
sieur Bertin,” he felt sure. Walter stopped 
short. If the dark-skinned foreigner had any- 
thing to say to him, he could come out and say 
it ; he should not think his young neighbor was 
running away. But M. Bertin neither came out 
nor Avent in ; and after a feAv moments spent in 
pretending to read a letter, Walter went slowly 
downstairs and strolled toAvards the Boulevart des 
Italiens. Once, on the Avay there, he thought he 


31 IS SING — A YOUNG GIRL. 


21 


caught siglit of his doubtful-looking neighbor. 
Walter was glancing back at a couple of the 
picturesquely dressed Orientals who, during the 
Exhibition year, were such a common sight in 
Paris. Not far behind, dressed in a tightly-fitting 
frock-coat, was a slim figure which he took for 
that of M. Bertin. 

“ Can he be following me?” thought Walter. 

This question was soon answered. The young 
Englishman sat down in front of one of the cafes 
on the Boulevarts, and having ordered a cup of 
coffee, amused himself by watching the motley 
crowd, of all nationalities, that passed and re- 
passed, like a swarm of bright-winged insects 
flitting in the light of the setting sun after the 
heat of a July day. 

But Walter scarcely saw the crowd, scarcely 
heard the hum of gay talk around him. He was 
under the spell of a woman’s sweet face ; and 
the struggles he was vainly making to believe 
her a designing coquette only served to drive 
more firmly into his mind the impression made 
by her plaintive eyes. Who was she ? What 
was the relationship between her and the sallow, 
furtive-eyed man who had spoken to her as if she 
had been a dog ? Was it to an ill-used wife, to 
a dupe, a servant, or a slave that Walter had 
addressed his incoherent words of sympathy ? 


MISSiNG — A YOUNG GIUL. 


oo 


He was asking himself these questions when a 
waiter^ who was with difficulty threading his way 
among the compact mass of customers seated 
at the little round tables, accidentally brushed 
against his arm, causing him to look round. 

There, two crowded tables between him and 
Walter, sat the sallow Bertin, with his eyes fixed 
unmistakably upon the young Englishman. 

Not being deficient in his countrymen’s power 
of keeping a stolidly unmoved countenance^ 
Walter Drake let his glance pass over the man as 
if without recognition. But in truth he felt by 
no means so tranquil as he looked. He could 
not doubt that Monsieur Bertin, having over- 
heard his words to the young lady without being 
able to see who it was that uttered them, had 
watched for him at the door of his flat, followed 
him, and was now still engaged in tracking him 
down. In Paris at this time, where at every 
corner you might come suddenly face to face 
with a dark-skinned Arab, his furtive eyes gleam- 
ing with a sombre fire, or a Turk, casting glances 
of languid sensuality from beneath his scarlet 
fez, it was not difficult to conceive what the far- 
famed Oriental jealousy might be like, how fierce 
in its manifestations, how relentless in its pursuit 
of revenge. It was fear, then, of this man 
which had caused the beautiful girl to pretend 


MISSING — A YOUNG GIRL. 


23 


she had not even heard her neighbor’s incoherent 
words of sympathy. This idea, while at first it 
flattered Walter Drake’s self-love, quickly caused 
his cheeks to flush with fear lest his ill-advised 
daring should be visited on the helpless girl. 
The humming, sauntering throng danced before 
his eyes, a blurred, confused picture against the 
sky, reddened by the setting sun. What should 
he do ? What could he do ? He was paralyzed, 
helpless. No interference on his side was possible 
in the affairs of a woman who had never so much 
as spoken to or looked at him. 

A hand laid lightly on his arm made him start. 

He turned ; and there at his elbow stood, with 
a deprecating smile, M. Bertin. The crowd was 
so great, the customers who sat in front of the 
cafe Avere jammed so closely together, that it was 
with difficulty that he made a deferential little 
bow as he introduced himself, and addressed 
Walter in excellent English. 

I beg your pardon, sir. Forgive me for 
having to introduce myself. But I believe that 
we are neighbors.” 

Nothing could have been more courteous, more 
obsequious even, than the man’s manner. But 
Walter felt cold from head to foot, and watched 
him keenly. This civility could be but a blind, 
assumed to put him off his guard, he felt sure. 


24 


HISSING— A YOUNG GIBL. 


M. Bertin’s right hand was thrust into the breast 
of his frock-coat. It flashed into Walter’s mind j 
that it was a revolver he was holding there, and j 
the Englishman held himself ready for a spring, j 
for a struggle. M. Berlin went on in the same J 
courteous tone. 

“ My wife and I, monsieur, like to be on good 
terms with our neighbors, and we should be 
delighted if you would honor us with a call. 
The evening is the best time. This little note 
will explain.” 

Walter sat in a state of stupefaction as the man 
suddenly drew forth his hand and placed on the 
marble-topped table an undirected envelope. 
Then, with a bow as deep as the cramping 
circumstances allowed, he withdrew, edging his 
way among the cafe customers as neatly as a 
knife-blade. 

Walter did not look after him, did not open 
the note on the table. Two words of the obse- 
quious stranger’s rang in his ears, filling him, 
passionate young idiot that he was, with a frenzy 
of disappointment, of despair — 

“ My wife ! ” 


CHAPTER III. 


If it had not come within the experience of 
most of us to find, here and there, a genuine and 
lasting attachment starting upon no firmer ground 
than admiration for a pretty face, the passionate 
misery with which Walter Drake learned, as he 
supposed, that the object of his admiration was a 
married woman would seem inconceivable. Not 
until that moment had he known how strong his 
absurd infatuation was. He stared at the en- 
velope the man had left lying upon the table 
beside his coffee-cup, but without attempting to 
open it. Indeed, he scarcely saw it. The mourn- 
ful white face of the woman, with the tears on 
her cheeks, rose in his mind side by side with the 
sinister countenance of the man who had just 
left him. Here in this crowd, all busy with their 
own pleasure, and chattering gayly in tongues 
which sounded in his foreign ears a mere jargon, 
he felt himself truly alone, and gave himself up 
to his imaginings without hindrance. 


MISSING — A YOUNG GIRL. 


• 20 


Suddenly, however, liis musiiigs were inter- 
rupted by a voice speaking to him in bad French, 
with the unmistakable accent of a fellow-country- 
man. 

‘‘ Pardon, monsieur. Est ce que je puis 
m’asseoir a votre table?’’ 

Walter gathered, as he glanced up and saw a 
sunburnt young Englishman who was entirely 
unknown to him, that the stranger wished to take 
one of the two chairs just vacated by a portly 
French citizen and his still portlier wife. 

Oui,” said he, briefly ; and then waking 
suddenly to the absurdity of two Englishmen 
with an extremely limited command of French 
addressing each other laboriously in that lan- 
guage, he added deliberately : That is — yes, 
certainly.” 

The stranger, who for some reason looked 
self-conscious and uncomfortable, reddened, and 
laughed awkwardly as he sat down. But he 
evidently wished to continue the conversation, in 
spite of Walter’s equally evident wish to have no 
more of it. 

One doesn’t like, in France, to take it for 
granted that a man’s an Englishman, although 
I — well, I guessed you were a fellow-country- 
man,” said the new-comer, who could not have 
been more than three-and-twenty. 


MISSING — J ro UNO GiBL. 


Why not?’’ said Walter, aggressively. I 
shouldn’t think it much of a compliment to be 
taken for a Frenchman.” 

For, unhappily, the young doctor was not free 
from a touch of insular jingoism. 

‘‘ Of course not,” assented the other naturally 
enough. 

Having ordered an absinthe under the impres- 
sion that it was quite ^Hhe right thing,” and 
without the slightest suspicion that it was the 
social equivalent to ^^two-penn’orth of gin” in 
England, the new-comer glanced, as the waiter 
took away Walter Drake’s empty coffee-cup, at 
the unopened envelope which the action disclosed. 
He reddened still more than before, and cleared 
his throat tentatively ; then, without further 
warning, he rushed at the subject which had evi- 
dently been occupying his mind. 

I know the man who put that down,” he 
burst out. 

Walter looked up quickly, not well pleased at 
finding that he had had a second close observer 
of his actions during the past ten minutes. The 
young man, who refrained from meeting his 
angry eyes, went on quickly — 

‘‘ He’s a sort of quack, a spiritualist and 
teller of fortunes, and adventurer, you know, 
who makes money just any way he can — not 


28 


MISSING — A YOUNG GIRL. 


at all a — a desirable acquaintance/ as ladies 
?> 

say. 

1 daresay/’ said Walter, briefly. 

The young man began to look more uncom- 
fortable than ever. If there had been a vacant 
chair anywhere near he would promptly have 
changed his seat. But there was not. So he 
plucked up his courage and dashed on — 

I — I hope you don’t think it impertinent of 
me, being a stranger. Of course in England one 
wouldn’t interfere even if one thought a man 
was going to be murdered, unless one knew him. 
But over here ” 

The two young men looked at each other, and 
then, recognizing the absurd truth of what the 
other was saying, W alter allowed himself a rather 
grim smile. 

Quite true,” he said with a nod. Over 
here one may allow oneself a little kindness to- 
wards even a stranger. So you know this man, 
Bertin, as he calls himself?” 

^^Well, I — I have a friend who knows 
him — to his cost, I may say. This Bertin 
— Dr. Peters I believe he calls himself in Eng- 
land, but I daresay he has a fresh name for 
every country in the world — got an introduc- 
tion to — to my friend, and invited him to at- 
tend seances^ as he called them, in his rooms. 


MISSING — A YOUNG GIRL. 


29 


And — and there was a beautiful woman 
there ” 

Here the young man betrayed clearly, by his 
evident embarrassment, that his “ friend ” was 
no other than himself. W alter, on his side, grew 
crimson, and listened guiltily but with eager 
attention. 

“ Of course,” continued the young fellow with 
an effort, after a short pause, “ these adventurers 
always have a pretty woman to help them. You 
see, a man is so much more of — of a fool when 
there’s a pretty woman about.” 

Walter only nodded. The other went on — 

‘‘ And — and it really was awfully hard to 
believe that there could be anything wrong about 
her. In fact, even now I shouldn’t like to think 
there was.” Walter’s eyes met his furtively; 
there was a look of positive gratitude in those of 
the young doctor. “ For there was something 
more than prettiness about her, something that 
touched one, and made one feel as if one couldn’t 

hurt her, whatever she did ” 

“ Is she his wife? ” interrupted Walter abruptly. 
“ I don’t know. There’s an older woman be- 
longing to the establishment, who calls herself 

Madame Bertin, but ” 

But W alter was satisfied, the wish being father 
to the thought. 


30 


MISSING— A YOUNG GIHL. 


The poor girl is a dupe herself, most likely/’ 
he said. Is she English ? ” \ 

“ Oh no ; I thought she was, hut she didn’t | 
understand a word I said.” j 

Conscious of having betrayed himself, he j 
began to stammer, and broke off. i 

Not French, surely? ” said Walter, taking no i 
notice of his confusion. i 

I think so. At least the man always spoke ' 
to her in French.” 

And couldn’t you tell from the way she 
answered ? ” , 

She didn’t answer. That is where the trick- 
ery comes in. She is made to seem a sort of ^ 
sphinx, do you see ? Interesting because you I 
can get nothing out of her.” | 

An exclamation of vexation, of disgust, escaped j 
Walter’s lips. j 

All the work is given to her. The man is i 
very clever, and she doesn’t make her appearances 
in public too cheap. But whenever she leaves 
the house she ensnares a victim, whether con- 
sciously or not I don’t pretend to say.” Walter 
stared down at the table, feeling hot and uncom- 
fortable, while the other went on : Then the 

man steps in. He shadows the victim for a little 
while, finds out with his eyes or his ears whether 
he is to be trusted. Then, if he is satisfied, he 


MISSING— A YOUNG GIRL. 


31 


introduces himself^ gives his little insinuating 
card, and interest and curiosity never fail to bring 
down their man.” 

He paused. Walter broke in, his voice scarcely 
under control — 

Well, and then — this girl ” 

Oh, her part remains as passive as ever. 
She pretends to tell your fortune, which the 
man interprets. You can’t help being interested 
and amused, perhaps fascinated. He makes him- 
self agreeable, and either plays cards with you or 
borrows money of you. Of course it comes to 
the same thing. And that goes on till you are 
tired of it ; or till you have spent all your ready 
money, in which case of course you are dropped.” 

There was a pause. Walter still stared at the 
table ; and the other young Englishman, becom- 
ing abruptly overwhelmed with remorse or false 
shame, suddenly started up and began to edge 
his way through the crowd. 

I thought I’d better tell you. Good-even- 

mg. 

He raised his hat as he shot out these words. 
Walter, rising too, detained him for an instant. 

I am very much obliged to you,” he said 
nervously. Tell me one thing more, please. 
Why hasn’t he been prosecuted?” 

Why — why,” stammered the other in con- 


32 


MISSING — A YOUNG GIRL. 

* 


fusion, “ one can’t exactly do it — with that girl 
about. One hasn’t the heart.” 

Walter raised his hat in his turn, and asked 
no more. He had a long walk by himself right 
through the city to old Paris, through the Fau- 
bourg St. Germain, and back by the Pont Neuf. 

By the time he got back to his sister’s flat he 
was able to tell himself that he took a right view 
of it all, and that he was cured. 


CHAPTER IV. 


It really looked as if Walter Drake was gifted 
with good sense beyond his years, and had quite 
got the better of his infatuation of the eyes for 
the mysterious and dangei’ous beauty. He never 
went on to the balcony except during the hours 
named in M. Bertin’s advertisement, and on the 
card he had found in the adventurer’s envelope, 
as those during which the seances for palmistry, 
etc., were going on. If, when he was outside, 
he heard a noise on the other side of the zinc 
partition, he promptly retreated indoors. In 
fact, he was a model of discretion. 

Clever Miss Halliday, who made no more sign 
of knowing anything about the business than if 
there had been no such creatures in the world as 
M. Bertin and his mysterious beauty, watched, 
admired, and wondered how long it would last. 

It lasted about ten days. 

At the end of that time Walter, whom ill- 


34 


HISSING — A YOUNG GIRL. 


starred love had rendered misanthropical^ again 
gave up his place on some party o£ pleasure to a 
friend of his sister’s, and, as before, filled up the 
time with a stroll on the boulevarts. When he 
got back to No. 35, it was seven o’clock. 

There was a small lift, with room for two or 
three persons, which the occupants of the house 
worked themselves. Just as Walter entered the 
court-yard, he saw through the glass door a lady 
at the door of the lift. 

It was the mysterious beauty. 

He hurried forward two or three steps, his 
passion, Avhich he had supposed dead, flaming 
suddenly up within him to fierce life. Then he 
struggled with himself, and stopped. No ; if he 
were to yield to his impulse, go forward, and 
offer to work the lift, and to stand by her side 
for only those few moments, he knew that all the 
work of the last ten days would be undone ; he 
would be at M. Bertin’s mercy. So by a great 
effort he turned his back upon inclination, and 
returned to the boulevarts. Then he noticed for 
the first time a fiacre which had been standing 
outside, and which was just driving off. No 
doubt it had brought the young lady back home. 

Walter could not get the better of the excite- 
ment into Avhich he had been thrown by that one 
glimpse of the girl’s slender figure, of the fair 


MISSING — A YOUNG GIRL. 


35 


head surmounted by a large black hat, of the 
small black-gloved hand on the lift-door. After 
a short, sharp walk instead of the lazy stroll he 
had intended, he went back to the house, telling 
himself that he was in no mood for sauntering ; 
he wanted a book. But down in the depths of 
his heart he knew that it was the neighborhood 
of the beautiful girl which was tempting him. 
He went up in the lift, with a fanciful idea in 
his mind that the perfume of her long gloves 
hung about it : the notion intoxicated him. As 
he sprang out on the fourth floor a sort of 
stupefaction seized him. 

There, pacing the landing in front of the 
outer door of M. Bertin’s flat, was the girl her- 
self. She did not condescend to turn her head 
as the lift-door slammed to, she did not even 
glance at the impetuous young man who was 
standing in the shadow a few yards from her, 
but continued to pace up and down impatiently, 
pulling the bell from time to time, but always 
without getting it answered. Walter stood for a 
few moments like an idiot, not wishing, hardly 
daring to come forward. He saw what had 
happened. Nobody was at home ; she had no 
key ; she would have to wait for the return of 
somebody who had one. 

Walter, as he looked at her with a loudly- 


o6 


MISSING — A YOUNG GIRL. 


beating heart, thought he had never seen any 
creature so attractive, so alluring, so calculated, 
in every detail of her pale, plaintive beauty, of 
her simple, daintily-fresh muslin dress, to fasci- 
nate a man to the point of enslavement. 

It seemed to him a long time, though in fact 
it was only a few seconds, before he felt able to 
speak with a steady voice. Then he came for- 
ward and met her face to face, at a distance of a 
couple of yards. He raised his hat, and, glanc- 
ing at her door, addressed her, blushing furiously. 

I am afraid, madam, that you find yourself 
locked out. May I get a key, and try to unlock 
your door for you ? ’’ 

She gave him a faint smile, as she shook her 
head. Evidently she did not understand the 
words, though she seemed to have some idea of 
his meaning. The smile, the modest flush which 
came into her pale face as he spoke, made her 
more charming than ever . to W alter. Advent- 
uress? He would have staked his life she was 
not. 

He rang the bell of his sister’s flat, and asked 
the servant who opened it, a young English girl, 
to give him some keys. When he had collected 
some half-dozen, he ran out on to the landing, 
and tried them, one after the other, in M. Bertin’s 
lock ; while the young lady, as silent as ever, but 


MISSING— A YOUNG GIRL, 


37 


smiling prettily, stood watching the burglarious 
attempt. 

Not a key would fit ! The lady shrugged her 
pretty shoulders. Walter, for a moment, stood 
irresolute. Then, blushing more furiously than 
ever, he intimated to her by pantomime that he 
hoped she would consent to wait in his sister’s 
fiat until the return of her friends. As soon as, 
by running backwards and forwards and making 
gestures of invitation, he had made her under- 
stand, he was surprised and almost puzzled by 
the readiness with which she accepted the sug- 
gestion. 

But he interpreted this willingness in all sorts 
of favorable and fiattering ways. She knew that 
two ladies lived there ; she was too young to be 
anything but daringly innocent and indiscreet ; 
she saw that Walter was a gentleman, upon 
whose chivalry she could rely. So the infatuated 
young man told himself, as the beautiful girl 
walked like a princess through the tiny vestibule, 
where the stained glass of the little windows 
threw soft lights upon her white dress, into the 
salon beyond. ‘ 

He placed a chair for her, a low chair which 
Miss Halliday much affected, as it showed off a 
handsome dress to perfection. But no soft silk, 
no gorgeous brocade, ever looked so exquisite in 


MISSIXG — A YOUNG GIRL, 


38 

Walter’s eyes as the folds of crumpled muslin 
which fell about the fair-haired girl who now 
occupied this seat. There was nothing fidgety or 
confused about her ; she sat back with her eyes 
full of their habitual grave sadness, and looked 
at the flowers, the pictures, with bright, inter- 
ested glances. Knowing it was impossible to 
entertain her by speech, Walter brought her 
photographs and books with pictures, and sat 
reverently near her, so much intoxicated by the 
vicinity that he feared she would be puzzled or 
alarmed by the sound of his rapid, excited breath- 
ing. 

But she remained unmoved as a child. Only 
once did she utter a few words, and then they 
came so suddenly as to give her companion 
almost a shock. He was showing her a large 
photograph of a wooded hill in Surrey. She 
took it from him, nodding and smiling at the 
picture. 

P’itty, p’itty, oh, so p’itty ! ’’ she cried in a 
soft voice, with a tone of loving admiration. 

The words were like a child’s. Walter, de- 
lighted to find that she knew a little, if a very 
little, English, burst out into questions, com- 
ments. But she raised her head, looked at him 
almost vacantly, blushed, shook her head, and 
turned again to the photograph. 


MISSI^^G — A YOUNG GIEL. 


39 


Was she — was she weak of intellect? The 
thought went like a stab through Walter’s mind, 
to be at once thrust out. There was bright 
intelligence in the girl’s every glance, besides 
sweetness and tenderness unspeakable : all wait- 
ing for the happy fellow who 

Walter rose from his chair, feeling that he 
Avas losing what head he had. He rang for 
coffee and fruit, and watched and waited on his 
guest with reverent devotion which seemed to 
touch her. For the seriousness of her face broke 
up, and gave place to more and more frequent 
smiles. The change made him deliriously happy. 
She got up presently, and looked at the orna- 
ments about the little saloUj and signified with 
graceful gestures what she thought of them. 
She stopped before a portrait of Miss Halliday, 
evidently recognizing it, and smiled from it to 
him witli a little demure suggestion that he took 
a special interest in the sitter. 

Walter stamped his foot and shook his head 
emphatically. 

No, no, no,” he said. 

And the girl glanced at him askance, and per- 
haps saw more meaning in his eyes than even 
in his gestures. She put down the portrait 
hurriedly, and crossed the room to the door. 
He understood, and feeling as if he was closing 


40 


MlSSjyG — A YOUKG GIRL. 


the gates of Paradise upon himself, he went 
humbly to the door, and let her out. 

On the landing she turned hesitatingly towards 
him and, with the first sign of shyness she had 
shown, gave him her hand. He dared not kiss 
it, he scarcely dared to press it ; he only held it 
for two seconds in his, and let her withdraw it as 
she turned to her own door. 

He waited at his own while she rang. The 
bell was answered at once this time. It was 
M. Bertin himself who opened the door. He 
was full of apparently anxious inquiries, of ex- 
cuses for their having all been out so long ; but 
Walter, with a tightening of the heart, caught a 
glance in his direction which flashed into his 
mind the suggestion that he had been tricked. 

By the man, by the scoundrel of a man, of 
course ! 

As for the girl, she passed in without a word. 


CHAPTER V. 


When Walter returned to his sister’s salon he 
felt that the world had become transfigured. 
This room, still sanctified by the aroma of the 
girl’s presence, seemed to him so full of light and 
joy, and the majesty and mystery of gracious 
womanhood, that merely to stand where she had 
stood, to hang over the chair in which she had 
sat, was pure and unalloyed delight. As for the 
photograph of the Surrey hills, which she had 
held in her hand, and which had drawn from her 
that strange, childish exclamation, he took it out 
of the portfolio which contained it among a 
number of others, and hid it in his own room. 
For by this time he had given himself up to the 
passion which possessed him, and held lawful all 
means of keeping imaginary communion with her. 
She the wife of that mean-faced quack ? No, no, 
not if all the priests and lawyers in France should 
swear it. 


42 


JUS SING— A YOUNG GIRL, 


This state of exaltation^ varied certainly by 
occasional qualms of doubt and common sense^ 
lasted until the ladies came back. They had 
been out to dinner and to the theatre afterwards^ 
and when Walter met them in the salon^ they 
were both very tired, and Mrs. Plunket was 
rather cross. A communication the housemaid 
had just made to her was the text of her discourse 
to her brother when he entered. Miss Halliday 
was sitting on the chair he held sacred : this 
enraged him. 

really think, Walter,” began his sister, 
“ that you might have more sense of what is due 
to me — to us, than to bring unkno\^n ladies into 
the place during our absence ! ” 

Mrs. Plunket would not have let the incident 
reach Ernestine’s ears if she could have helped it ; 
but as the maid had informed her of the visit in 
Miss Halliday’s hearing, there was nothing for it 
but to thresh the matter out, and trust that he 
would have some fair excuse to give for his 
extraordinary conduct. 

Walter was surprised to find how coolly he 
could answer her. The entrance of these ladies 
had indeed dragged him down with a rush from 
the clouds to the ordinary realities of life. He 
laughed quite easily. 

There was only one unknown lady, and she 


MISSING — A YOUNG GIBL. 


43 


is a very near neighbor/’ he said. ‘‘1 don’t 
know her name, and as she is neither French nor 
English I couldn’t even talk to her. But finding 
her on the landing outside, where she had to wait 
till some other member of the household came 
back to let her in, I thought it the only right 
thing to do to ask her to wait in here.” 

^^Oh!” said Mrs. Plunket, wishing he had 
not been so elaborate over his explanation, but 
feeling that there was not much more to be 
said. • 

Miss Halliday said nothing. Walter devoutly 
hoped she would not, when alone with his sister, 
volunteer any information concerning M. Bertin’s 
establishment. 

He did the lady injustice. 

Where are you going?” asked Miss Halliday 
next day after luncheon, meeting Walter in the 
hall just as he was taking up his hat and gloves. 

He had avoided any tUe-a-tUe with Ernestine 
that morning, having an uneasy suspicion that 
the lady guessed shrewdly at this state of feeling. 
He knew by this time that she could have given 
no hint concerning the occupations of the Bertin 
establishment to his sister, and he therefore did 
her the small justice of being defiantly frank. 

I’m going next door.” 

They exchanged looks, of vexation and warn- 


u 


MISSWG — A YOUNG GIBL. 


iug on the one side, o£ uneasy but stubborn resolu- 
tion on the other. 

You won’t be warned ? ” 

Yes, I will. But with the warning in my 
mind, I must judge for myself.” 

He went out, and Ernestine shook her head. 
He’ll not be in a state to judge of anything 
soon,” she thought to herself. What a silly 
lad it is ! ” 

She had a very soft place in her heart for the 
silly lad, though, and she felt distinctly sore that 
he should not be able to rise above the common 
masculine failing of preferring a pair of young 
blue eyes, belonging to a mind which was a blank 
to him, to a pair which had looked out long 
enough on the world to make the fancy of their 
owner for himself an extremely flattering one. 

Walter, meanwhile, had rung M. Bertin’s bell, 
and been ushered in by a man in livery, who 
conducted him into a tiny salon^ furnished in the 
light, pretty French fashion, where an elderly 
Frenchwoman, who introduced herself to him as 

Madame Bertin,” was dispensing tea, a Van- 
as she explained, in tiny cups to half-a- 
dozen lady visitors. 

The bright sunlight was so effectually kept out 
by dark-red blinds and half-drawn curtains, that 
at first Walter’s blinded eyes could make out no 


MISSING — A YOUNG GIRL, 


M) 


detail of Madame Bertin’s personal appearance 
beyond the fact that she was stout. When his 
eyes got used to the dark-red light he found that 
there was nothing more salient about her. She 
was just a middle-aged Frenchwoman, a mere 
bundle of dowdy . garments, with hawk-like eyes 
and thin, compressed lips. 

For be it noted that a Frenchwoman worthy of 
the name is never middle-aged : she carries on 
her youth till an abnormally late period, and 
then, when she is tired of attracting admirers, 
drops suddenly into a stately and charming old age. 

After a very few minutes, during which the 
ladies chatted of palmistry and second-sight with 
the conviction of profound believers, a portiere 
at the end of the room was drawn aside, and the 
man-servant, re-appearing, announced that Mad- 
emoiselle Zaida was at liberty to receive more 
guests. 

Like a flock of elderly and portly doves the 
ladies rose and passed behind the portiere, Wal- 
ter discreetly following them. 

The room into which he now passed was longer 
than the first, and the daylight was altogether 
excluded. It was so crowded with little spindle- 
legged gilt chairs and sofas that there was no 
room left for any other furniture than long 
mirrors reaching to the floor and little quaint 


JUS SING — A YOUNG GIRL. 


4 () 

cabinets in the corners. Just inside, and in view, 
as Walter noted, of Madame Bertin’s sharp eyes, 
the man-servant stood, holding a salver contain- 
ing a goodly number of gold pieces and two or 
three English bank-notes conspicuously displayed. 
On this salver the visitors dropped their offerings ; 
and Walter, glancing back as he reluctantly 
parted with a sovereign, saw that Madame Bertin 
had risen from her chair, and, eyeglass in hand, 
was jotting down on a pocket-tablet what he 
doubted not were the financial results of this 
collection. 

When all had passed into the room, the porti- 
ere was drawn again, and the man-servant retired. 
The ladies fluttered down on to chairs, or stood 
amiably arranging the order of precedence. Quite 
half the number were evidently acquaintances, 
and belonged to the class of the rich hourgeoisiej 
the women of which thankfully rush into the 
silly little underhand dissipations of fortune-telling 
and spirit-rapping to escape from the monotony 
of their idle lives. 

After a few moments, the light, tinkling sound 
of a mandolin was heard in an adjoining room, 
and almost at the same time the folding-doors 
which shut in an alcove at the end of the apart- 
ment were opened, and M. Bertin came out, 
throwing them wide open as he did so. 


MISSING — A YOUNG GIBL, 


47 


Excited and indignant and passionately moved 
as he was, at the sight of the girl he loved, whom 
this action suddenly revealed, Walter could not 
l)ut be struck by the theatrical effectiveness of 
her environmeiit. 

The alcove was hung with crimson plush, and 
a church-lamp, hanging by chains from the ceil- 
ing, showed a soft light over lier fair head. She 
was standing by a small table with a handsomely 
embroidered cover, white, grave, listless, with her 
eyes fixed on the optui page of a book which she 
reluctantly closed as the alcove doors were thrown 
open. She wore a long plain white silk gown 
with loose undersleeves, and over it a magnificent 
over-dress of brocade of a large and striking 
pattern, the long, hanging sleeves of which nearly 
touched the ground. The picture she made, 
with her pale face and fair hair, was most strik- 
ing But to see her in these theatrical surround- 
ings, instead of disillusionizing Walter, filled him 
with a passionate desire to carry her away from 
them into a purer atmosphere, a more dignified 
life. 

The palmistry smnce had begun. Taking in 
hers the hand of the lady who first came forward, 
the girl examined the lines with painstaking, 
business-like minuteness, and made notes of her 
observations, as she went on, with a pencil and 


48 


3IISSING — A YOUNG GIBL, 


slate which lay on the table beside her. All 
without a word. This perpetual silence of hers 
struck Walter as the most effective part of the 
entire proceedings : it was sphinx-like, piquant, 
original. Her notes Avere copied carefully on a 
sheet of paper by M. Bertin, as fast as she Avrote 
them down. This paper Avas then folded, sealed 
by him with much ceremony, and handed to the 
visitor, Avho withdreAV, passing by a side-door 
into the vestibule, Avhere the man-servant Avas 
Avaiting to open the outer door. 

Walter aAvaited his turn, keeping in the back- 
OTOund as much as he could. From time to time 
the tinkle of the outer bell announced a fresh 
arrival, and presently another batch of visitors 
came from behind the portike. There Avere two 
men among the new-comers, a fact AAdiich filled 
Walter with a frenzy of jealousy. And then, 
noticing that the mandolin only tinkled between 
the entrance of a batch of visitors and the ar- 
rival of a new-comer in the tea-room, W alter had 
the audacity, seizing a moment when M. Bertin’s 
sharp eyes Avere busy over his notes, to peep 
behind the portiere. There he saw that it Avas 
the portly Madame Bertin, AAdiose unflagging 
industry he could not but admire, Avho filled her 
idle moments, Avhen she was left alone, by a 
business-like tAvanging on the romantic instru- 


MISSING — A YOUNG GIRL. 


49 


ment, which she thrust under the table when the 
outer bell announced a fresh arrival. 

The idea of this plump, prosaic lady filling the 
silence with the playing of holeros roused in 
Walter an almost uncontrollable impulse to burst 
out laughing ; but at that moment M. Bertin, 
whose sharp eyes had long ago singled him out, 
signalled to him to come forward. As he 
walked up the room, feeling suddenly as bash- 
ful as a schoolboy, and filled with the foolish 
notion that all these people must see that he 
adored the girl, her blue-gray eyes met his for 
the first time. 

The change which came suddenly into her 
face electrified Walter. She was no longer list- 
less, she was no longer sad. He walked on 
towards her mechanically, not knowing what he 
did. For the glow on the girl’s face, the bright- 
ness of her eyes, a tender yearning in her ex- 
pression which seemed to him to reach to his 
heart and twine tendrils about it, all brought him 
a message as unexpected as it was intoxicating. 
She loved him ; or if not, she was ready to do so. 

He suddenly found himself wondering whether 
he was walking straight, or whether he was 
giving outward signs, which all might read, of 
the delicious madness in his veins. As a matter 
of fact his movements had become heavy, slow. 


50 


MISSING— A YOUNG GIRL. 


leaden : a sort of paralysis seemed to deaden his 
limbs. He reached the table. After a moment’s 
hesitation^, a moment during which he felt that 
he could scarcely bear the touch of her hand 
without crying aloud, he felt the grasp of her 
white fingers, and a shiver ran through him. 

M. Bertin was observing him ; he could not 
help that. If he had had to be shot the next 
minute for this one minute’s joy the fact would 
not have troubled him then. The girl held his 
hand, bent over it, following the lines of his palm 
with a slim, pink-nailed finger. Her light hair 
almost touched his face. He could hear her 
quick breathing. When, still holding his hand, 
she took up her pencil and scribbled on the 
slate, she gave him a glance which thrilled him 
with longing to seize her head in his arms and 
hold it against his breast. A shade passed over 
her face once, and it was with a sigh that she 
noted down something which her flimsy mock- 
science told her. Then she drew herself up, and 
let his hand fall, with one plaintive look straight 
into his eyes. 

Walter scarcely knew how he got away. All 
that he remembered was that Bertin followed 
him to the door, and showered upon him polite 
invitations to drop in, any evening he pleased, to 
play cards with him. 


MISSING — A YOUNG GIRL. 


51 


But 1 warn you/’ continued the quack, with 
a smile and a shrug, not to play with me unless 
you are a first-rate player, or unless you can 
afford to lose. For I may say, without boasting, 
that I am quite de i^remiere forced 

So Walter found when, on the evening of the 
following day, having resisted the temptation of 
going the very same evening, he again visited the 
Bertins’ flat. 

The aspect of the room where the palmistry ' 
seance had been held was now entirely changed. 
By the closing of the alcove, the removal of some 
of the chairs, the introduction of two or three 
little tables and of a sofa, it was a habitable, even 
homelike, little apartment. La Belle Zaida 
looked to Walter’s eyes lovelier than ever in a 
dress of ivory-tinted, transparent white stuff. She 
was bending over an embroidery frame, from 
which, during the whole of the evening she 
scarcely looked up. Madame Bertin, ridiculous in 
a cap of state, stitched away at some fancy-work 
near her, looking, Walter was glad to think, a 
very dragon of vigilance. 

Not once during the evening did the girl break 
the silence which added so greatly to the mysterious 
fascination she exercised. There was no palmistry 
in the evening, Walter was glad to see. The 
visitors were all men with the exception of a 


MISSING — A YOUNG GIRL, 


couple of ladies of the homely type of Madame 
Bertin herself, who left their shawls and over- 
shoes in the vestibule, nodded familiarly to La 
Belle Zaida, and spent the evening in low-voiced 
chat with their hostess. The gentlemen played 
cards with M. Bertin and each other. Everything 
w^as supremely decorous, and might have seemed 
even a trifle dull to Walter but for the presence 
of the girl. 

But the mystery of her nationality increased. 
Two of the men present were expert linguists, 
and between them they tried her in a dozen lan- 
guages without success. The appearance of utter 
vacancy with which she shook her head and 
answered No, no,’’ in English seemed to Walter 
to preclude the possibility that she did under- 
stand. He himself tried her in English and in 
French, without result. Yet when either of the 
Bertins spoke to her, he in English or she in 
French, she answered with a nod or a smile of 
apprehension. Madame Bertin’s explanation of 
this to an inquirer was received with sceptical 
smiles. 

She is a creature of heavenly gifts,” replied 
Madame ; “ she can only hold communion with 
the souls in sympathy with her.” 

The soul, if he had one, of that wretched 
quack in sympathy with that girl’s ! Th ) sug- 


MISSING — A YOUNG GIRL. 


53 


gestion, ridiculous as it seemed to him, enraged 
Walter, who spent an uneasy evening, at one 
moment supremely happy when the girl’s glance 
rested upon him, at another supremely miserable 
when she looked at anyone else. 

So the evening wore on. When were these 
enormities of M. Bertin’s, this cheating at cards, 
this borrowing of large sums, to be committed? 
Walter was impatient to have the man’s character 
revealed as that of a scoundrel, in order that he 
might at once address himself to the task of free- 
ing the girl from a position which he felt sure 
was that of dupe. But M. Bertin refused to 
allow play for any but trifling stakes, saying that 
his superior skill gave him too great an advan- 
tage. Walter saw, and it maddened him to see, 
that for most of the guests, as for himself, the 
presence of La Belle Zaida was the attraction. He 
could have gnashed his teeth to find that when 
he left, one young Frenchman, whose admiration 
for the girl was evident, stayed behind. 

One grain of comfort he had, though even that 
he was not to be permitted to keep. On bidding 
La Belle Zaida good-by, he felt that her soft white 
fingers trembled a moment under the pressure of 
his ; and he saw, or thought he saw, in the modest 
glance of her eyes, a look of kindness which set 
his whole heart aglow. 


54 


MISSING — A YOUNG GIRL. 


When he let himself with his latch-key into his 
sister’s flat, he came face to face with Miss Halli- 
tlay, and his face clouded guiltily. 

“ Amy has gone to bed,” she said, “ and has 
left me up to give you some supper.” 

She led the way into the salle-a-manger, and 
he followed her just to say he wanted nothing to 
eat. 

“ Now listen,” she said decisively, holding up 
her finger in kindly warning, “ I know you are in 
love, in spite of all my wholesome admonitions. 
Now don’t you think, before you let your appetite 
fall off on account of any woman, you should at 
least be sure that she has a little feeling for you 
in return ? She has other admirers, I take it for 
granted.” 

“ Yes,” admitted Walter with a groan. 

“ Have you had any distinguishing mark of 
her favor ? ” 

“ I may say ‘ Yes,’ ” he said reluctantly, after a 
pause. 

“ She pressed your hand in bidding you good- 
night perhaps, and gave you a look ” 

Walter grew crimson, and turned angrily to 
leave the room. Miss Halliday, in quite a humble 
voice, spoke again. 

“ Forgive me for my idle suggestions,” she 
began. “ You know- ” 


MISSING — A YOUNG GIRL. 


55 


He interrupted her impatiently. 

And what other way has a young girl of 
showing a liking, a preference, except by looks 
and pressure of the hand ? ” 

No other, but — are you sure that you only, 
of all the men there, got that look, that hand 
pressure ? ” 

Walter could have killed her. With a few 
words of thanks, which were almost insulting in 
their coldness, he wished her good-night, and 
went to his room. 

But the bitter sting of that suggestion re- 
mained. 

Was he the dupe after all? 


CHAPTER VI. 


Walter scarcely slept that night. His head 
was as much on fire as his heart. At one 
moment he was full of wild schemes for carrying 
the girl off, marrying her at the British Embassy, 
and braving all the possible results of such a re- 
markably indiscreet proceeding ; the next, doubts 
as to her good faith rose up in such numbers that 
they overpowered all the passionate appeals of his 
love. What could it be but the most transparent 
charlatanism, this sphinx-like silence, this pretence 
that she could understand no one but the 
Bertins ? Although she made them no answer 
with her lips, it was plain that she understood 
what they said, whether they spoke in French or 
in English. Again, she had uttered a few words 
in a sort of child’s broken English when she was 
alone with him in his sister’s salon. If he could 
see her alone again, he wondered whether he 
could get her to speak to him, or whether the 


MISSING — A YOUNG GIRL. 


57 


influence over her of these people was too 
strong. 

One resolution Walter made in the silence of 
the night. He Avould be present at no more 
seances, no more receptions in the adjoining flat. 
He could submit to be the dupe of La Belle 
Zaida, but not of her unprepossessing guardian. 

So the next day passed, and the next, and the 
next, and Walter did not catch a glimpse of his 
divinity. But he met M. Bertin on the stairs, 
and replied to that gentleman’s pressing expostu- 
lations and invitations by assurances that he was 
very much obliged, and that he would not forget 
him. 

In the meantime, Walter continued to hear La 
Belle Zaida’s steps on the adjoining balcony dur- 
ing her free hours ; but, though burning with im- 
patience to look upon her face again, he was 
mindful of the watchful Miss Halliday, and re- 
frained. On the fourth day of this abstention, 
however, he got desperate ; and finding himself 
in a box at the Fran^ais with his sister and 
Ernestine, surrounded by a bevy of young men, 
all eager to take his place beside the rich Amer- 
ican lady, he slipped away, and drove back 
home. 

It was a quarter to nine o’clock. The detesta- 
ble evening receptions, when M. Bertin’s friends 


58 


3IISSmG — A YOUNG GTEL. 


trooped in, on pretence of playing cards, to gaze 
at the beautiful Zaida, began at nine. Walter felt 
that he would be only just in time to see her on 
the balcony for a moment. 

Would he be in time though? As hisy?acrc 
drew up before No. 35, a’ carriage, drawn by an 
exceedingly handsome pair of chestnut horses, 
stopped at the same door. Walter knew those 
horses; they were the talk of Paris just now. 
They belonged to a rich Peruvian who had come 
over for the Exhibition, and who was making 
a sensation by vulgar and ostentatious extrava- 
gance. Walter glanced at him as he got out of 
his carriage. The Peruvian was a little old-young 
man, with a dark, shrivelled skin, thick lips, and 
small black eyes, and moved slowly as if the in- 
firmities of old age had come upon him before 
their time. 

Walter got into the lift, and quickly reached 
his floor, with a flush on his face at the un- 
pleasant thought that the repulsive-looking 
creature he had just seen might be on his way to 
M. Bertin’s flat. He dashed into his sister’s 
salon^ and thence out on to the balcony. A sud- 
den tremor seized him here, for he heard by the 
soft rustle of a woman’s dress that La Belle Zaida 
was close by. After a moment’s hesitation, he 
stepped up on one of the two big boxes on the 


MISSING — A YOUNG GIRL. 


59 


balcony, in each of which a myrtle tree grew, and 
looked over the zinc partition. 

The girl — for it was she whom he had heard 
— started, and a bright-red flush came into her 
face as she looked up at him. At the same 
moment she impulsively held out her hand. 

No trickery there, no acting ! ” thought 
Walter triumphantly, as, unable to restrain him- 
self in his surprise and exultation, he held her 
hand pressed against his lips while his passionate 
eyes rested, in a devouring ecstasy, on her face. 

The girl trembled, tried at first to withdraw her 
hand, and then, with an irresistible expression, 
half shy pleading to be set free, half a most 
maidenly submission, she stood still, and let him 
whisper incoherent words of love. But only for 
a few moments. Suddenly she started, and 
looked behind her, at the same moment withdraw- 
ing her hand from Walter’s. Then, turning 
quickly to the young man, she signed to him to 
go away, putting her finger silently on her lips in 
token of caution. Walter had heard nothing, 
and he marvelled at the acuteness of the girl’s 
hearing, when he saw that M. Bertin had stepped 
out on to the balcony. 

Come, come,” the latter said sharply to the 
girl, in the same arrogant tone that Walter had 
heard him use to her before. 


60 


MISSING — A YOUNG GIBL, 


The young Englishman’s blood boiled. If he 
had been in love before, without encouragement, 
what was he now that she had listened to him, let 
him press her fingers against his lips, heard him 
whisper that he loved her ! The word doubt no 
longer existed for him. His thoughts flew on- 
ward, onward along the path of events Avhich he 
had marked out : his proposal of marriage to 
her ; her acceptance, according most graciously 
and sweetly the privileges love could claim ; his 
formal interview with the Bertins, her ostensible 
guardians ; and, lastly, the crowning of his hopes 
in marriage. And then there burst in upon these 
intoxicating dreams certain hard unpleasant 
realities, whereof the first and the chief was the 
supposed visit of the rich Peruvian. He could 
not bear the thought of the girl he loved being 
exposed to the gaze, if not to the attentions, of 
such a notorious libertine as Don Muniz. 

At last his passionate jealousy got the better of 
his distaste to seeing her in the company of 
Bertin’s acquaintances, and he went again to the 
adjacent flat. It was as he had feared : the 
Peruvian was there, and was evidently captivated 
by Zaida’s strange pale beauty. M. Bertin, too, 
who played emrte first with one guest and then 
with another, and who found a ditticulty in re- 
straining the Peruvian’s impatience at the small- 


MISSING— A YOUNG GIRL, 


61 


ness of the stakes he allowed, was less cordial to 
Walter himself, and did not repeat his invitation 
to drop in whenever he pleased ! ’’ It was 
evident that his bright black eyes, which shone to- 
night with a more eager brilliancy than usual, 
noted every glance which Don Muniz cast at 
Zaida, and noted also the irritation of the 
young Englishman. 

When the rest of the guests left, according to 
custom, at eleven o’clock, Don Muniz stayed on. 
And it was not until half an hour later that 
Walter, smoking cigar after cigar impatiently in 
the courtyard below, saw the little miserable 
caricature of a man, with his halting gait and 
small shrunken face, come out of the house and 
get up into his carriage. 

Mrs. Plunket and Miss Halliday had returned a 
few minutes before. With his heart beating very 
fast, Walter returned to his sister’s flat, where he 
did his best to entertain the ladies until they re- 
tired for the night. 

All the time, hoAvever, that he was laughing 
and talking with them, he had an uneasy sense 
that Miss Halliday saw through his assumed 
gayety to the disquieting emotions underneath. 

When the ladies were in their own rooms, he 
went to the open window of his, and listened 
eagerly for some sound on the adjoining balcony. 


62 


MISSING — A YOUNG GINL. 


It was nearly always Zaida’s custom on fine nights 
to stand for a few moments drinking in the fresh 
air, after her escape from the heated salon. He 
had not to wait long. His heart beat furiously 
as he heard the soft sigh which told him she was 
near. What should he do ? He was burning to 
speak to her, to burst out in denunciation of Don 
iNIuniz ; to ask her when he could see her again, 
to tell her that he had lived through days of 
miserable suspense and longing in the hour which 
had passed since he left M. Bertin’s. But he 
dared not address her at this time of night, even 
if, to do so, he had not had to pass before Miss 
Halliday’s window. 

One thing he might venture to do, he desper- 
ately thought. Seizing a sheet of paper and a 
pencil, he wrote a few ardent words, telling her, 
with a marked lack of literary style and finish, 
that he loved her, he adored her, and imploring 
her to try to love him in return. Then he 
stepped out very softly, and reaching the parti- 
tion almost without making a sound, he put the 
roll of paper through the hole he had made in 
the sheet of zinc. 

To his rapturous delight, the note was seized, 
snatched at once, and in a moment the girl was 
gone. 

He heard the soft flutter of her dress, tlie light 


MISSING — A YOUNG GIIIL. 


63 


footfall, the closing of her window. He went 
back to his own room in a sort of delirium. It 
did indeed cross his mind that she might not 
understand his note, for even her nationality was 
still a mystery to him, the only words he had ever 
heard her utter having been spoken in the broken 
Eno^lish of a foremner or of a child. But even 
this consideration did not avail seriously to affect 
his joy, his triumph. She had taken the note 
eagerly, she had held it in her hands, perhaps to 
her lips. Walter Drake had never been much in 
love before, and his new passion partook of the 
enthusiasm of the lad as well as of the tenacity 
of the mature man. 

On the following morning Walter went early 
on to the balcony, in the hope of some sign from 
Zaida. He had another note ready, and he had 
waited very few moments when he heard her on 
the other side of the partition. Again he folded 
his love-missive and passed it through the hole in 
the zinc : again it was seized and carried off, and 
Zaida disappeared without having exchanged a 
word or a look with him. For three or four days 
he had to be content to vent his feelings in this 
one-sided correspondence. Zaida never waited for 
a look or a word, but always came out, at the hour 
appointed in his last note, to receive the next one. 
This looked as if she understood them, therefore 


64 


MISSING — A YOUNG GIRL. 


Walter soon became impatient for some more 
direct sort of answer, and in one of his letters 
he told her so. If the declaration of his love 
did not offend her, would she not let him have 
one word to tell him so : he should be on the 
balcony the next morning at eleven, but he 
would not venture to give her another note un- 
less she herself would write a few words to him 
back. 

love you,” his letter went on, ^^too passion- 
ately to be content any longer with your silent 
acceptance of my letters. Let me have half a 
dozen words only to say that I may hope to win 
you for my wife. I can scarcely endure this 
suspense. At one moment the thought that you 
are so near me, and that your fingers seem to 
touch my letters eagerly, sets me on fire. The 
next the idea that you are perhaps only playing 
with me after all makes me miserable. But this 
cannot be true. I have heard of love without 
trust, but I cannot imagine it. I trust you, Zakla, 
I do trust you, oh, my darling, and by that trust 
I beseech you to let me have one word of answer. 
Only tell me the thought of my love is not dis- 
tasteful to you, and I will at once go to the Ber- 
tins and tell them I want to make you my wife. 

Yours eternally, 

Walter Drake.” 


MISSING— A YOUNG GIRL. 


65 


It was late at night ; the ladies of the house- 
hold had retired to their rooms and M. Bertin’s 
reception next door was over. Walter stole 
out on to the balcony ; heard by the soft rustle 
of a silk frock that Zaida was there, and passed 
his letter through to her in the usual manner. 
He never dared venture upon more than a whis- 
per- as he did so, for fear of the ears on each side 
of them ; and even that whisper never got an 
audible response. That mysterious silence of 
hers, which had at first made her so interesting, 
was getting weird, uncanny: Walter would have 
given the world to have broken it. 

He stayed outside for a little while, smoking. 
He wondered whether, on the following morning, 
he should get any answer to his letter. If not, 
he told himself that he would go straight away, 
either on to Italy or back to England. Zaida 
certainly knew enough English to understand 
what he had written, and she could decide be- 
tween now and next morning whether she cared 
to have him or not. 

To his astonishment, he had not been ten 
minutes out there, debating thus with himself, 
when a little mouse-like scratching noise made 
him look round, and he saAv protruding through 
the hole he had made in the partition a couple of 
tightly-rolled sheets of note-paper. 


66 


MISSING — A YOUNG GIRL. 


He, in his turn, seized them eagerly. But 
before he could do more than whisper incoherent 
thanks and blessings, the figure on the other side 
slid away, and he was alone with his treasure. 
He rushed into his room with it. The note was 
in pencil, written in a dainty lady’s hand, but 
hurriedly. Walter’s eyes seemed to burn into 
his head as he read. The letter had no heading. 

I don’t know how to write,” it began, I am 
too wicked, too much ashamed of myself. I 
ought never to have received your letters, but I 
was unhappy and you were kind, and your words 
comforted me. I said to myself : ^ His face is 
good. I do no harm, surely, in reading what he 
writes. It amuses him to write, and he thinks I 
do not understand. In a few days he will go 
away, and forget the strange foreign girl, and 
will never know that she is as English as himself.’ 
But you stayed, and stayed, and your letters 
grew more passionate, and you talked of making 
me your wife. I cried when I read that. I 
should have liked to be your wife, oh, I may tell 
you that. You say you trust me, but you cannot 
trust me more than I could have trusted you. 
When I sat in your salon with you that day, you 
thought I occupied myself with nothing but the 
coffee and the fruit and the pictures. But you 
were wrong. I studied you. I found out so 


MISSING — A YOUNG GIRL. 


67 


much about you, all in a woman’s way, by little 
things and by guessing, and I said to myself : 
‘ This man makes me proud that I am English 
too.’ But you did not know. Oh, no, I took 
care of that. I was so quiet, you could see noth- 
ing. But you loved me all the same. Even now, 
when I must tell you to go away and never to 
think of me any more, I am proud and happy 
because you have loved me. Good-by, good- 
by, good-by ! Do not try to see me again. If 
I see you, I must tell you of the barrier between 
us, of that which has made me swear to myself 
never to become any man’s wdfe. You must not 
put me to this trial. And you must not speak 
to the Bertins : they would siniply take me away, 
and I should go with them willingly, for I should 
know that they were right. 

“ Do not think, as I see by your letter you do, 
that I am ill-treated. I am not. I am an orphan, 
and my uncle, who brought me up, is dead. My 
aunt has been left almost without money, and 
she it was who arranged with these people to 
take me with them, so that I could earn some 
money with the little accomplishments she taught 
me. It is my joy and comfort to send her what 
I can every week, and to know that I am repay- 
ing a little the tenderness she has always shown 
me. 


68 


MISSING — A YOUNG GIRL. 


“ I implore you to write me no more notes : I 
ought never to have received one. If you do 
love me, forgive me, and respect my wish, my 
prayer. Yours most gratefully, 

Mary Oakley.” 


CHAPTER VII. 


AV ALTER Drake looked up from the letter 
like a man awakening from a horrible dream. 
It read from end to end like a maddening enigma, 
of which the only portion clear to read Avas the 
sadness underlying eveiy sentence. What could 
the barrier he of Avhich she spoke ? That it was 
some trifle, SAich as lowliness of birth or want of 
fortune, he firmly believed, and her sensitiveness 
in the matter was only another most alluring 
charm. But even blinded as he was by his 
passion, he could not help seeing that her story 
was a strangely improbable one. Hoav could a 
loving relative and guardian, such as the girl 
described her aunt to be, allow her to Avander 
about the world Avith such questionable pro- 
tectors as the Bertins, earning money to support 
her by practices of such dubious morality as 
fortune-telling, palmi,stry, and the like, for the 
exercise of Avhich miserable old women Avere 


70 


MISSING — A YOUNG GIRL. 


haled from time to time before the London 
magistrates ? 

He did not mean to give her up, that was 
certain ; but, in the meantime, it was difficult to 
decide what was the next step to take. It was 
only too probable that the Bertins would object 
to his carrying off the chief attraction of their 
miserable seances and receptions ; therefore, mind- 
ful of her warning, he did not yet dare address 
himself to them. So he wrote a letter, imploring 
her to dismiss from her mind the notion that any 
obstacle could exist for long between him and 
her if only she were willing to accept his de- 
votion ; and he begged her, at the same time, to 
give him the address of her aunt, in order that 
he might write to her on the subject nearest to 
his heart. 

But this letter was never delivered. Mary, as 
he now loved to call her to himself, no longer 
appeared on the balcony. Worse than this, day 
after day and evening after evening Walter saw 
the Peruvian’s carriage waiting before the house. 
The young fellow grew daily more restless, more 
irritable, so that at last his sister perceived that 
something was wrong with him ; and, suspecting 
some love-affair, though without guessing its 
object, she proposed that they should push on to 
Switzerland. 


BUSSING — A YOUNG GIRL. 


71 


“ W e can come back here when this frightful 
heat is over,” she added. 

Miss Halliday agreed cordially wdth the plan, 
but Walter Avas reticent as to his views. The 
ladies, however, pro(!eeded from suggestion to 
arrangement Avithout a doubt but that he Avould 
end by falling in Avith their Avishes. So that, before 
they had left the luncheon-table, it Avas already 
decided that they should leave tAvo servants in 
charge of the flat, and start for Switzei’land in 
tAvo days’ time. 

Walter remained in the dining-room for the 
enjoyment of a cigar, while the ladies, still chat- 
tering about their plans, AA^ent into the salon. 

Should he go Avith them, and try to cure him- 
self by absence of the passion which was gnaAA'- 
ing at his heart ? Or should he decide to stay 
behind, in obedience to an imaginary call on him 
to be ready to protect, if necessary, the girl he 
loved ? He called himself a fanciful fool for this 
last question, Avhich yet remained in his mind. 
He had almost decided to stay, when the door 
opened, and Miss Halliday came in. She had 
groAvn graver these last few days, W alter thought ; 
had been less ready A\dth her bright-Avitted re- 
marks upon men and things. He started up and 
threAV the end of his cigar away. 

“ No, sit down again,” she said imperiously, a 


72 MISSING — A YOUNG GIBL, 

slight shade of annoyance crossing her face. 

You know very well that I don’t mind smoke ; 
and it is unsociability, not chivalry, which shuts 
you up here to have your cigar by yourself.” 

He sat down, snubbed, and took out another 
cigar from his case without a word, but he 
did not light it. This woman had something dis- 
agreeable to say — something about Mary Oakley. 

Are you going away with us ? ” she asked. 

The question was a simple one enough, and it 
was put very quietly. But if a bomb had been 
thrown into the flat from the opera-house oppo- 
site, it would not have disconcerted Walter more. 
He was unpleasantly conscious that his confusion 
was manifest to the too shrewd lady, although 
he managed to put a return-question without 
stammering. 

What can have made you think that I was 
not ? ” 

Perhaps,” rejoined Ernestine, with a little 
dry, shy laugh, the knowledge of what I 
should do myself if I were a man in the same 
circumstances.” 

Walter reddened, and his eyes met hers. 
There was such an attractive expression of honest, 
daring sympathy in those of the woman that he 
came nearer to her, acting upon an instinct which 
encouraged her to go on. 


MISSING — A YOUNG GIRL. 


73 


“ I like a man who doesn’t do things by 
halves,” she said 5 even if it results in his not 
making a fool of himself by halves.” 

For a moment Walter was disconcerted again 
by this frankness. The next instant he threw 
back his head and burst out laughingo 

“ Go on,” said he, “ go on. I don’t say that 
I plead guilty yet, but go on.” 

‘‘ Having fallen in love with a woman whom 
the most elementary rules of common-sense must 
tell you to mistrust, you proceed to resolve to 
marry her ” 

W alter looked up, reddening more deeply. 

“ What put that into your head ? ” 

“ Never ask by what process a truth comes 
into a woman’s head. And I’m not blaming you. 
Since a man can only have one wife, surely he 
may please himself over the choice of that one.” 

They both laughed, and Walter drew nearer 
to her. Nothing in the world could have made 
him in love with Miss Halliday ; but he was 
beginning to think that, short of that supreme 
mark of appreciation, there was no sign of his 
favor which he would not be willing to bestow 
upon her. 

‘‘ At the same time,” she went on, holding up 
a warning finger, “ it really does seem that you 
have gone out of your way to find about the 


74 


MISSING — A YOUNG GIRL, 


iinlikeliest girl possible for a sober English man 
wife. You have heard of Don Muniz, whose 
extravagances are the talk of Paris ? ’’ 

W alter started, assenting with an uneasy move- 
ment of the head. 

Do you know that his carriage is always 
before this door, and that he is spoken of as 
having become enslaved by some pretty woman ? ’’ 
^^You are too hard. How can you be sure 
that it is her fault ? ” 

I am not ! ” cried Ernestine, with sudden 
energy. I have seen this girl. The- people 
she is with take her out now and then, most 
carefully escorted, and it is impossible not to 
notice her, for her strange beauty makes such a 
sensation.” 

She is beautiful, is she not?” struck in Wal- 
ter in a low voice. 

Very beautiful. But ” 

But what — what ? ” 

You will be angry with me. Remember, you 
have asked to know what 1 think.” 

Well?” 

I thought her face looked — as if — there 
were some faculty of the mind — wanting.” 

Do you mean — do you mean — you thought 
her ” 

He stopped, his voice trembling. 


MISSING — A YOUNG GIRL. 


75 


Mentally deficient or weak ? Well, yes. In- 
deed, how otherwise can you account for her 
position with these people ? ” 

Walter walked up and down in a miserable 
agony of doubt raised by the suggestion. He 
remembered in the girl certain things which 
seemed to support the terrible notion — a strange 
vacancy of expression in particular. He turned 
on Ernestine with passion. 

“ No, no,” he cried ; “ it is not so. I have a 

letter from her ” He stopped, blushing. 

But as Miss Halliday merely nodded, as if the 
fact was a matter of course, he soon continued : 
“ she writes as sensibly as you or I.” 

“ Does she say — forgive the question — noth- 
ing which could tally with my unhappy sug- 
gestion ? ” 

‘‘She says,” admitted Walter, after a pause, 
“ that she has a secret, and that I am not to 
think of her.” 

Miss Halliday- got up restlessly, and began to 
pick out such of the flowers in the bouquet on 
the table as seemed to want replacing by fresher 
ones. “ And you don’t mean to mind ? ” 

“ Of course not.” 

“ Very well, then. I shan’t let Amy go away.” 

“ Why not ? Can’t you trust to my discretion 
if I am left here by myself? ” 


76 


MISSING — A YOUNG GIRL. 


Most assuredly not/’ 

Thank you.” 

But Walter was not angry : he could not be, 
for she was as sympathetic, as much interested, 
as if the love-affair had been her own. He gave 
her a look, half of gratitude, half of impatience, 
as she ran, laughing, out of the room. 

That evening he went again to the Bertin 
reception ; and finding the Peruvian not only in 
attendance, but lavish in his attentions to the 
statuesque, silent beauty, Walter showed his irri- 
tation a little too plainly, and was informed by 
his no longer courteous host that this was the 
last of the evenings on which he could receive 
guests, as the contract of marriage of his adopted 
daughter was about to be signed. 

Marriage ! ” echoed Walter in a loud voice. 

He was standing with M. Bertin by the card- 
table from which they had both risen. His 
angry, excited tone made Madame Bertin start ; 
and Don Muniz, who was sitting between the 
elderly lady and the young one, with his narrow 
black eyes fixed upon the latter, looked up with 
a frown. Only the girl herself remained un- 
moved. She was taking no notice of the Peru- 
vian, but sat with her head bent, listlessly strok- 
ing a little Persian kitten she held in her lap. 

Walter’s breath came fast as he noticed the 


MISSING — A YOUNG GIRL, 


77 


girl’s immovability with a sudden spasm of 
dread. 

I did not know — I had not heard that the 
young lady was going to be married/’ he said in 
a lower tone, with his eyes fixed on the girl’s fair 
head. And the fortunate husband is ” 

Senor Muniz.” 

And Bertin, without glancing at Walter, bowed 
his head in the direction of the ill-looking Peru- 
vian. 

There was nothing to be got by further ques- 
tioning, and Walter said no more to the quack, 
who plainly showed his anxiety to be rid of him. 
The young Englishman, left to himself while 
Bertin addressed some obsequious phrases to Don 
Muniz, conceived a little plan, which he instantly 
set about executing. Retreating to a small table, 
where he was shielded from the view of the 
group round Zaida, by a couple of young French- 
men who were playing cards, he took a letter 
from his pocket, tore off an unused half-sheet, 
and scribbled on it in pencil these words : — 

Do not trust this Muniz. They say he is 
going to marry you. Do not believe it, and do 
not in any way put yourself in his power. 

Walter.” 

The scrap of paper containing these words h^ 


78 


3IISSI^^G—A YOUNG GIRL, 


folded very small, and then advanced to the 
ladies to bid them good-night. Mary Oakley 
looked into his face with a timid, pleading, sad 
look which almost destroyed his self-possession. 
He managed to pass his note unseen into her 
hand, and then he turned again to Madame 
Bertin with some remarks which he had care- 
fully prepared, tie wanted to give Mary time 
to read his warning before he left, in order to 
see how she would take it. As he had expected, 
she was woman enough to find a way to read it 
unsuspected under everybody’s nose. Holding 
her feather fan before her, she unfolded the 
jjaper and deciphered the hasty scrawl. 

Walter heard a deep-drawn breath. He looked 
round at her. She had sprung up from her seat, 
and was staring before her, at the floor, as if a 
chasm had opened suddenly at her feet. Then 
she looked up, looked around, and tottered as 
she tried to regain her chair. The Peruvian, 
who had never taken, for more tlian a few 
moments, his evil, covetous eyes from her beauti- 
ful face, hurried forward and would have sup- 
ported her in his arms. But the girl looked 
down at him in horror. 

No, no,” she said, as if with an effort, like a 
child or a foreigner, trying to speak clearly and 
carefully. 


3IISSING — A YOUNG GIRL. 


79 


Don Muniz still pressed his assistance upon 
her, not much caring, so it seemed to Walter’s 
fiercely jealous eyes, whether it was unwelcome 
or not. The girl shivered as his ugly, hrown, 
claw-like hands touched her bare arms ; then, 
with a low, hoarse cry of loathing, she turned 
upon him with such well-judged fierceness and 
suddenness, that the Peruvian, all unprepared, 
stumbled over the fringe of the hearthrug and 
fell to the ground. 

Madame Bertin bleated out apologies, remon- 
strances, looking fiom one figure to the other of 
the group, horribly frightened. Especially she 
looked at her husband, and with sucli intensity 
of unspeakable despair that Walter’s glance fol- 
lowed hers to the man’s face. It was livid, cruel, 
the lips drawn back from the long, gleaming 
teeth, the face of a wild animal when the prey he 
is hungering for seems to be escaping him. The 
look of the Peruvian himself was mild compared 
with Bertin’s. 

The girl stood staring at W alter, crumpling up 
something tightly in her hand. Bertin, edging 
his way unobtrusively, step by step, towards her, 
pounced upon her hand, and tried to force the 
fingers open. He guessed that there was a note 
under the clenched fingers. But she would not 
give it up. She struggled ; and he had, for 


80 


MISSING — A YOUNG GIRL. 


shame’s sake, to desist, seeing that she would 
not submit at once as he had expected. As soon 
as he let her go, she darted to the lamp, and 
held the scrap of paper over the glass until it 
curled and scorched, and at last burst into flame. 

There was a new, passionate determination in 
the girl’s face. Both Bertin and his wife watched 
her with something like fear ; and through it all 
she had only uttered those two words — No, no ! ” 

Then they all tried to recover their ordinary 
demeanor ; all, that is to say, but the young girl, 
who still stood by the lamp, looking furtively at 
the figures around her, almost as if they were 
eluding her sight like the hideous, half-seen 
visions of a nightmare. Walter dared not shake 
hands with her again ; he dreaded rousing any 
further suspicion on the part of the man Bertin. 
Before he had quite recovered himself he found 
his plump hostess, in a state of great distress, 
half leading, half pushing him out of the room, 
with a running comment of the most uncompli- 
mentary kind. 

He scarcely saw her : his eyes were full of 
Mary Oakley’s face as she gave him a last look : 
a look of pitiful sadness and entreaty which set 
his heart throbbing and his pulses beating rapidly. 

Save me ! save me ! ” So it seemed to him the 
look said. 


CHAPTER VIII. 


Walter felt, as he made his way back to his 
sister’s flat, that he must take some step to save 
the girl he loved, even if his interference should 
bring him within the grasp of the strict French 
law. He feared the sensual Peruvian, and the 
enormous powers his money gave him ; but more, 
much more, he dreaded the crafty, thin-lipped 
Bertin, needy and greedy as he knew him to be. 

Mrs. Plunket and Miss Halliday were enter- 
taining some friends in the little salon^ so Walter 
slipped quietly into the dining-room, drew a chair 
up to the table, and laid his head on his hands. 
He felt miserable and helpless. Mary’s cry rang 
in his ears. Yet what could he do to help her? 
He started up, and, going to the outer door of 
the flat, put it ajar, and watched. In about ten 
minutes’ time Bertin and Don Muniz came out 
together. Walter heard the former assure the 
Peruvian, as he proceeded to accompany him 


82 


MISSING — A YOUNG GIBL. 


downstairs, that the treatment he had received 
at the girl’s hands had been dictated by simple 
caprice. 

Don Muniz, who, since his fall, was moving 
more slowly than ever, stopped short and looked 
Bertin full in the face. 

You are not conducting this affair with your 
usual ability, my friend,” he said in a snarling 
tone. The girl is handsome, very handsome, 
or I would not put up with such treatment as I 
have received to-night. But understand, if when 
I come to-morrow evening you have not schooled 
her into better behavior, it will be my last visit.” 

The Peruvian spoke in French, but rather 
slowly, so that the young Englishman, who was 
shamelessly playing eavesdropper, could make 
out almost all he said. Bertin’s rejoinder he 
found scarcely less easy to understand. 

Sefior,” he said, in a low, but distinct voice, 
I assure you the girl is merely playing the 
coquette, and that you will have no further 
trouble with her. If I may suggest, however, I 
think the time has come when a few diamonds, 
such as would seem but as grain for poultry to 
you, but which would dazzle a girl’s eyes, might 
now be fittingly proffered. I have told the girl 
you are ready to do her the honor of marrying 
her — but it probably seems to her too much to 


MISSING— A YOUNG GIRL, 


83 


believe without some such evidence as that I 
humbly suggest.” 

The Peruvian half-turned, as if he would go 
back. 

If I had thought that,” he said, I would 
have offered her this.” 

And he touched a ring on one of his, own dark 
fingers, in which was set a diamond of enormous 
size. The eyes of the other man glistened. 

No, no,” he rejoined hastily, do not despoil 
yourself, senor. On the contrary, let me advise 
you to appear before her as splendid as you like 
in your person. It will impress her. She is too 
inexperienced to say to herself : ^ A man should 
not wear so much jewellery.’ It will seem to her 
to suggest the luxury of a strange land.” 

The Peruvian laughed knowingly. The two 
men were now too far down the stairs for Walter 
to hear more of what they said. He heard 
faintly the sounds of their laughter as they went 
slowdy further and further down, and then he 
retreated within his sister’s door, feeling less 
ashamed at his own eavesdropping than amazed 
at the apparent folly of the Peruvian. 

Was it possible that Don Muniz did not see 
through the adventurer’s transparent artifice ? 
If he presented himself at M. Bertin’s on the 
following evening in any such magnifience as his 


84 


3nSSING — A YOUNG GIRL, 


wily host suggested, Don Muniz would undoubt- 
edly be robbed. And the robbery would just as 
undoubtedly be put down to La Belle Zaida, to 
Mary ! The idea was too revolting to be borne. 

A few minutes later Walter again rang the 
bell of Bertin’s flat, and asked to see Madame. 
He had before now observed a sort of frosty 
kindliness and nipped good-nature in the plump 
Frenchwoman’s face,, and he had resolved to try 
whether she could not be coaxed — or bought. 

By this time the hired man-servant had gone 
away, and it was Madame herself who opened the 
door. She had evidently expected only her hus- 
band, for she wore a very old flannel dressing- 
gown, and had her head tied up comfortably in 
a sort of black bandage. The poor old thing 
cried out in alarm at sight of Walter, and tried 
to conceal herself behind the door, muttering 
assurances that M. Bertin was out, and that they 
did not receive visitors at this hour. 

But Walter was obdurate. 

I know he is out, madame,” he said hurriedly, 
imploringly ; that is why I have come. Listen 
to me, I beg, for one moment. Y ou have a good, 
kind face, and I can trust you.” 

As she still tried to shut him out, Walter, 
thinking this was no time for delicacy, real or 
false, took out his purse and put what gold he 


MISSING — A YOUNG GIRL. 


85 


had in it into her hand. Now this was business : 
Madame Bertin left off trying to shut the door, 
and listened to him while she dropped the coin 
into her pocket. It was a capacious pocket, per- 
haps not wholly unconnected with the occasional 
practise of shop-lifting, Walter thought, as he 
heard the gold pieces fall a long way down to 
the bottom. He pressed his advantage, taking 
the opportunity to insert the whole of his person 
inside the door. 

And if, madame,” he went on obsequiously, 
you should find yourself at any time in any 
pressing difficulties, remember my purse is always 
at your service.’’ 

She was a practical woman, and upon this, 
with a shrewd glance at him and a deep sigh, she 
took him into the room where, during the after- 
noon seanceSj she made the tea. She lit one 
candle, being of a frugal mind ; besides, where 
is the use of keeping up a show of lavish luxury 
when you are in an old dressing-gown, with your 
head bound up ? She sat down, clasped her 
hands in front of her plump person, and sighed. 
W alter, fearing the man Bertin’s return, dashed 
into his subject at once. 

I would do anything to help you, madame,” 
he said in a fiery whisper, because I know you 
are kind to — Mary, Mary Oakley.” 


8 () MISSING — A YOUNG GIRL. 

Madame started violently ; her lips began to 
twitch, and her hands to tremble. 

“ Mary ! ” she repeated. Who told you her 

O 

name ! 

She herself did/’ answered Walter firmly; 

I am going to marry her.” 

Madame Bertin received the announcement 
with every sign of distress. 

So you carry on with her secret corre- 
spondence !” she exclaimed, angrily. ^^You set 
her against her guardians, who are like parents to 
her — the orphan ! You make her disobedient, 
you make her to refuse the good, rich husband 
they find for her ! You bad Englishman ! ” 

Unable to bear her emotion quietly, Madame 
got up and waddled up and down, with one hand 
inside her pocket, shaking it with rage. The 
clinking of the gold pieces, however, seemed to 
exercise a soothing effect upon her. She stopped 
and looked at him with her head on one side. 

You, you are not rich?” she said interroga- 
tively, with one eye shut. 

I am not very rich,” answered Walter truly 
enough, but I have enough to keep a wife, and 
to be good to her friends. And I am living with 
my sister, so that you could satisfy yourself as to 
my character, and make sure that I have not a 
wife already, which is more than you can be sure 


MISSING— A YOUNG GIBL. 


87 


of with that Peruvian ” beast^ he had almost 

added^ but checked himself in time. 

Oh^ ah ! ” replied Madame^ Avith a shrug. 

One must risk those things. And as for a 
man’s character^ it may not be very good, and 
he may yet make a tolerable husband. The 
girl who is too particular she remains old maid.” 

But there is no fear of that for Mary, since 
here I am, asking for nothing better than to 
marry her immediately ! ” 

Ah, AA^ell, I Avill see. I consult Monsieur 
Bertin,” said Madame, growing cautious, and 
glancing at the clock. He be here soon, and 
he be very angry to find you.” 

Walter went towards the door. As she let 
him out, the old Frenchwoman suddenly softened 
a little towards him. 

I am your friend,” she said, wdth a regretful 
sigh, I Avould rather you than the other. It is 
not everything — the money, and I love Zaida. 

But my husband ” She paused, looked 

about her fearfully, and then hurried on rapidly 
with her confession. He gamble, he lose all he 
get ; he must have more, more. This Muniz, he 
offer much gold for the girl. And he promise to 
treat her well.” 

Then you mean to sell her!” cried Walter 
indignantly. 


MISSING— A YOUNG GIRL, 


As he uttered the words, a door opened, and 
Mary peeped out into the vestibule. Her beautiful 
face wore an expression, not of hopeless misery, 
but of passionate defiance. She had scarcely 
caught sight of him when Madame Bertin pushed 
Walter out on to the landing, and shut the door 
upon him. But not before he had judged, by 
the lighting up of the girl’s face, that he had a 
right to constitute himself her champion. 

Next morning he found on the balcony a letter 
from Mary. The first words filled him with 
wretchedness. 

“ Why have you come,” the letter began, to 
change all life to me, and to make me ten times 
more miserable than T was before ? Since I have 
known you my occupation seems distastful, un- 
worthy ; my mind is poisoned against my guar- 
dians ; my infirmity seems to throw upon me tlie 
shadow of an everlasting curse. Why did you 
ever look at me, speak to me, as you have done ? 
You have opened my eyes to the evil, and 1 
shudder at it. I see the Bertins care for notliing 
but the money I bring them ; I see this Don 
Muniz is a bad man. I have grown suspicious 
of all things. I have seen Monsieur Bertin this 
morning ; I told him the presence of the man 
Muniz was distasteful to me, and that, whether 
he said he wished to marry me or not, I would 


MISSING — A YOUNG GIRL. 


89 


not see him again. He heard me quietly, with- 
out contradicting or persuading : this frightened 
me again. Then he said Don Muniz would be 
here to-night, for the last time, and I must see 
him and give him my refusal myself. Otherwise 
Don Muniz would think he had been deceived. 
And Monsieur Bertin looks so strange to-day, 
and Madame so frightened, that I feel anxious. 
And it seems to me that I have detected prepa- 
rations as if for going away. This flat was taken 
furnished by Monsieur Bertin, and I know that 
when he moves he moves quickly. If I never 
see you again — Good-by. I ought not to write 
this, but I feel so lonely, so lonely. • You will 
forgive me, as you must and will forget me. 

“ Mary Oakley.” 

Going away ! Going away ! Going away ! 
Through all the emotions which this letter roused 
in Walter, this fact dinned into his brain, at 
one moment stirring suspicion in him, at another 
reducing him to despair. For if Mary was will- 
ing to go with the Bertin s on a sudden flight, he 
could do nothing. In the meantime, however, 
there was the evening’s work to be considered. 
M. Bertin had advised the Peruvian to bedeck 
himself gorgeously, and to bring diamonds. If 
Don Muniz should be simple enough, or enam- 
ored enough, to heed this advice, there was 


90 


MISSING — A YOUNG GIRL. 


little doubt that he would be robbed, and that 
poor Mary would be made to appear an agent in 
the robbery. 

Walter was on fire all through that day. He 
took care to be smoking in the courtyard at nine 
o’clock that evening, the hour at which the 
evening receptions began. As he expected, 
a few minutes after the hour the Peruvian’s 
carriage drove up ; and Don Muniz, getting out 
of it, made his way slowly into the house. Wal- 
ter saw that his overcoat was unbuttoned, and 
that a great diamond, or cluster of diamonds, 
blazed in his shirt-front, while his dark fingers 
were loaded with rings. 

What a fool the man must be ! ” thought 
Walter. Yet the Peruvian did not look like a 
fool. The young Englishman wondered if he 

ought not to warn the man ; and then again 

He followed Don Muniz within the doors of the 
house, still hesitating, deliberating. And then — 
he saw the Peruvian take from his pocket a tiny 
revolver, examine it, and put it back into the 
pocket of his overcoat. 

Walter stepped without noise into the lift, 
reached the top floor first, waited until Don 
Muniz had rung at the Berlins’ door and been 
admitted by Madame, and then, after the lapse 
of a few moments, pulled the bell himself. 


MISSING — A YOUNG GIRL. 


91 


After some delay Madame Berlin opened it. 
This fact was in itself suspicious^ suggesting that 
for the work on hand it had been thought 
advisable to keep the hired man-servant out of 
the way. 

‘‘We do not receive to-night,” said Madame. 

And she closed the door in his face without 
giving him time for a word. He rang again, 
and again, hoping that this proof of a dogged 
watchfulness would put them on their guard. 

He did more than that. Feeling sure that 
there would be a violent scene that night between 
Bertin and the Peruvian, and thinking it prob- 
able that Bertin would try to escape, he resolved 
on a daring outrage of the liberty of the subject. 
If he had been in England he would have called 
in a policeman ; but he did not know enough 
French to explain his case to a Parisian guardian 
of the law, and he already knew too much of 
concierges and their ways to hope for assistance 
from that quarter. 

So he let himself into his sister’s flat by a 
.private key, which he had coaxed her to get for 
him, found a gimlet, a screwdriver, and a handful 
of screws, among his own masculine rubbish, pro- 
ceeded to take the bolt off a cupboard in his 
room, and returned hurriedly to the landing. 
He then screwed the bolt to M. Bertin’s door. 


92 


MISSING — A YOUNG GIRL, 


and the catch to the door-post. Having thus 
improvised the best obstacle he could to M. Ber- 
tin’s expected flight, Walter went back to his sis- 
ter’s flat, made his way at once to the balcony, and 
began to smoke cigarette after cigarette, leaning 
against the partition. 

It was all very Avell to laugh at the notion of 
the ornaments which he had placed upon M. 
Bertin’s door. It was all very well to tell himself 
that necessity was the parent of invention, that 
desperate diseases needed desperate remedies, and 
so on. It was none the less undeniable that he 
had taken the law into his own hands in a way 
which French justice might look upon as un- 
justifiable; and Walter was not easy in his mind. 
Supposing that his fears and Mary’s should prove 
to have been without foundation, he would have 
done considerably worse than make a fool of 
himself. If it had not been for the cowardice of 
the thing, Walter Avould have gone back, and, 
meekly unscrewing the bolt, would have hidden 
it away with a muttered malediction. But he 
said doggedly to himself that he would stand to. 
his colors. So he waited on the balcony and 
smoked on. 

At last a low murmur of voices, which came to 
him on the night air from the Bertins’ salojiy 
seemed to grow louder. Walter could hear the 


MISSING — A YOUNG GIRL. 


93 


guttural voice of the Peruvian, and even detect 
the rising impatience in his tone. He heard also 
the voice of Madame Bertin, speaking soothingly, 
persuasively. And from time to time Mary 
monotonously cried No, no, no ! ’’ It was clear 
to Walter that the three had been left together 
by the man Bertin, who thought the wooing of 
Don Muniz more likely to prosper in his absence 
than in his presence. But in this he was mis- 
taken. More and more resolute grew Mary’s cry, 
^^No, no, no!” until suddenly Walter’s listening 
ears detected a sound of fear in her tone. 

He did not hesitate for one instant. During 
the last ten minutes he had employed himself in 
loosening the staples which held the zinc par- 
tition to the wall. With one rough pull he now 
tore it down, and got over the railing on to the 
Bertins’ balcony. The windows of the salon 
were open. He pushed aside the blind, and 
peeped in through the frilled muslin curtains. 

The room was full of the soft light of wax 
candles, and the air heavy with the scent of 
flowers. Tired of his vain entreaties, Don Muniz, 
who carried in his hand a long flat case, which 
Walter guessed to contain jewellery, had risen to 
leave the room. But between him and the door 
stood Madame Bertin, pale, trembling, imploring 
him rapidly in a low voice to delay. 


94 


MISSING — A YOUNG GIRL, 


Do not give up hope. It is a girl’s caprice. 
She will relent to-morrow ; conie and see her 
again to-morrow/’ she begged^ interposing her 
portly figure j so that he could not open the door. 

But the Peruvian was furiously angry : he felt 
that he was being made a fool of. 

No, madame, not to-morrow or ever again/’ 
he said, in his halting French and with a strong 
Spanish accent. Who and what is this girl, 
that I should beseech and beg to her? You 
have deceived me, you and your husband. You 
said I had only to tell her I would marry her, 
and she would believe me, and go away with me 
without further question. But this has proved 
untrue. Then you said : Bring jewels to dazzle 
her eyes. So I bring to-night a necklace worth 
fifty thousand francs, and she pushes it away 
from her as if diamonds were dust to her. And 
now ” 

^^It is only her way, only her whim,” pleaded 
Madame Bertin. Then, in a still more coaxing 
tone : Leave the necklace with me, only to- 
night, and see what I will do.” 

But Don Muniz only chuckled dryly, and put- 
ting the case into an inside pocket, buttoned up 
his overcoat. 

No, madame,” he said quietly, it is only to 
young women one gives diamonds.” 


MISSING — A YOUNG GIRL. 


1*5 


You mistrust me, seuor ? ” said she pom- 
pously. 

Entii’ely, madame,” was the instant reply. 

And for a few moments they stood silently 
looking at each other, he watching for an oppor- 
tunity to escape, she completely blocking the way. 
At last his eyes, seeing that to pass or to remove 
this obstacle was hopeless, began to rove round 
the room in search of another door. 

Leave the necklace,” whispered Madame 
Bertin hoarsely, “ as you value your life ! ” 

Don Muniz started, and his right hand began 
to tremble as it sought something in the breast of 
his inner coat. Madame Bertin threw her great 
weight upon him, and, guessing perhaps what he 
was searching for, held fast his hands with no 
mean muscular power. 

Meanwhile, Mary, who had her back turned to 
the others, was staring before her, evidently ab- 
sorbed in the consideration of her own position, 
and taking no more notice of the excited words 
and movements of the man and woman behind 
her than if they had been a hundred miles away. 
Presently, however, her eyes, full of a mournful- 
ness which pierced Walter to the heart, caught 
sight of a hand stirring the portiere which 
divided the salon from the tea-room. The ex- 
pression of her face changed to one of deadly 


96 


MISSING — A YOUNG GIRL. 


horror. Walter’s eyes, following the direction of 
hers, saw what it was that alarmed her. The 
hand behind the portiere held a revolver ; there 
was a finger on it, and it was pointed towards 
someone in the room. 

Mary uttered a loud cry, and swung suddenly 
round where she stood. Don Muniz had evaded 
Madame Bertin’s grasp, and was making for a 
further door. W alter thought of the bolt on the 
outer door, which he had put to prevent the 
escape of a criminal, not a victim. 

His momentary fear was thrown away. Before 
he could step inside the window, before Don 
Muniz could reach the door of the salon, there 
was a sharp report, and the Peruvian staggered 
back a few paces. 

There was a moment’s ghastly, horrible pause 
in the room. The hand had disappeared behind 
the portiere. Madame Bertin stood wringing her 
hands, her white lips moving rapidly. Mary 
stood like a statue for a moment, and then ran 
forward towards the wounded man. 

She was just too late. As she came up he 
swayed forward, recovered himself, swayed for- 
ward again, and fell dead at her feet. 


CHAPTER IX. 


Waltek stepped through the long open 
window into the room. Madame Bertin rushed 
towards him, shrieking, accusing him of being 
the murderer of Don Muniz. 

“ No, madame,” said he quietly, “ I am not the 
murderer ; I am the witness whose evidence will 
bring your husband to justice.” 

She remained silent for a few moments after 
this, looking at the Englishman in a frightened 
manner, out of the corners of her eyes. Luckily 
for him, she then threw a rapid glance towards 
the portiere. Thus warned, Walter left her sud- 
denly, with an abrupt turn, and pulling aside the 
concealing curtain, discovered M. Bertin, revolver 
still in hand. 

A curious sensation stole down Walter’s back ; 
another moment and, on the principle that dead 
men tell no tales, he himself would have been lying 
beside the Peruvian. In a spasm of not unnatural 


98 


MISSING — A YOUNG GIRL. 


rage, he snatched the revolver from the hand of 
the adventurer, whose eyes were glittering w'ith 
strange fire. 

Let me go,” whispered the latter hoarsely. 
“I — I did not mean to harm you. Let me go. 
You have got the girl; what do you want with 
me?” 

“I don’t want you, but I intend to keep you 
for somebody that will,” said Walter grimly. 
“ You meant to murder that man, rob him, and 
escape, leaving this girl to bear the guilt of it, 
you cur. But you were just a little too cock- 
sure.” 

“Well, and where would be the harm?” re- 
joined Bertin coolly. “ In France they never 
punish a pretty woman ; there are always ‘ exten- 
uating circumstances.’ La Belle Za'ida would 
simply be well looked after in a maison de santL^’ 

And he tapped his forehead. 

“ Maison de sante ! ” A madhouse ! W alter’s 
brain seemed to reel. Even as he repudiated with 
passion the suggestion, he glanced at Mary with 
a little unacknowledged fear. For she had sank 
into a chair, and sat tapping the floor with one 
foot. And each time that the heel of her shoe 
touched the polished floor, she started violently. 
And each time that Madame Bertin moaned, or 
that the voices of the two men reached her, she 


MISSING— A YOUNG GIBL, 


91 ) 


started again. While all the time her face, with 
the eyes fixed upon the dead body on the floor, 
Avore an expression, not of horror, but of absolute 
stu})ef action. 

A dull dread crept through Walter’s oavu 
brain. 

Meanwhile, his fingers relaxed their Iiold of 
Bertin’s arms ; and the murderer, who had re- 
mained quite still, waiting for his chance, freed 
himself by a dexterous tAvist, and before Walter 
could stop him, sprang forAvard, and proceeded to 
rob the body before his eyes. With one quick 
movement he turned the body, AAutli another he 
tore open the coat, Avith a third he seized the 
case. of diamonds. Then, just as the Englishman, 
haAung recovered his AAuts, seized him by the 
collar, Bertin slid neatly out of his grasp, and 
made for the door. 

“ Stay, stop, think of me ! Do not leave me 
like this ! ” implored his Avife, in French. 

But he did not pause an instant. Walter, re- 
membering the bolt on the outer door, followed 
at leisure into the vestibule. 

In the feeble light of a little lamp that swung 
from the roof, M. Bertin Avas trying to open the 
outer door. He turned the key, Avithout result. 
He shook the door, he kicked it. At each fresh 
effort his movements became more feverishly 


100 


MISSING — A YOUNG GIRL 


rapid, his breath came more quickly. Knowing 
that, for a few minutes at least, the man was 
secure, Walter, still retaining his hold of the 
murderer’s revolver, watched him at a distance of 
a few feet, without word or movement. 

Suddenly the man turned to listen. Some 
sound on the landing outside, which he seemed to 
recognize, had caught his ear. He bent his head 
to listen more closely, and Walter saw that his 
breathing was growing labored, as of a man 
under the influence of some great fear. He drew 
himself upright at last, and leaning for one 
moment heavily against the door, let Walter see a 
face rigid with horror. 

The gendarmes ! ” he hissed in a whisper that 
Walter scarcely caught. 

This wretch, who had killed a fellow-man 
absolutely without emotion, could feel acutely 
for himself. Walter felt sick with disgust. The 
lamp-light was so feeble that until this moment 
he had escaped Bertin’s notice. On perceiving 
him, the murderer broke out into a torrent of 
fierce abuse. 

Dog ! Dog of an Englishman ! ” he ex- 
claimed beneath his teeth. And for the first 
time Walter detected a strong foreign accent in 
his speech. I was a fool to speak to you. 
You have brought me ill-luck. I saw it in your 


MISSING — A YOUNG GIEL, 


101 


cold English eyes the first moment I met you. I 
deserved this for not taking the warning.” The 
gambler’s superstition was peeping out of his 
narrow eyes, as he nodded his head several times, 
and seemed to be making a calculation. Then 
he turned suddenly to the young man. And 
it is all thrown away, this trouble of yours, that 
is the best of it, upon a girl you cannot marry, 
who is afflicted, who ” 

He stopped. The bell was rung from the out- 
side. With the step of a cat he glided stealthily 
away into the tea-room; and Walter, following 
him, saw him dart out upon the balcony, and 
make for Mrs. Plunket’s flat. 

The young man returned quickly to the vesti- 
bule, and in ansAver to a second ring, answered 
the door himself. 

For the bolt he had put on the door had been 
drawn back on the outside. 

On the landing stood two gendarmes; and 
Miss Halliday, with a very white face, stood at 
the door of Mrs. Plunket’s fiat. Walter started, 
and. looked from the men to the lady. 

It is all right,” said she, nodding her head 
reassuringly, I reported these people as sus- 
picious persons to the police two days ago. To- 
night I saw a bolt outside the door, could not 
understand it, and sent for them.” 


102 


3IISSmG — A YOUNG GIUN 


A murder has been committed/’ said Walter, 
in halting French, as he gave up the revolver to 
one of the gendarmes. The man has escaped 
into the next flat.” 

Miss Halliday, who was not afflicted with 

nerves,” and who only showed her excitement 
by a tightening of the lips and by the extra 
pallor of her face, made way for one of the men, 
while his comrade remained on the landing. 
Walter went in to help to secure the fugitive. 

Bertin was caught in one of the bedrooms, 
just as he was in the act of concealing himself in 
a wardrobe. He was handcuffed and conveyed 
away by the gendarmes, when one of them had 
entered the adjoining flat and ascertained the 
truth of Walter’s report. 

Mary was still in the salon. She had with- 
drawn to a corner of the room, and sat back in 
an armchair with her eyes closed and her head 
back on the cushion. There was on her face an 
expression of mingled horror and bewilderment, 
which filled Walter with dread. At every sound 
— the gendarme’s voice, Madame Bertin’s groans, 
Walter’s heavy tread — she shuddered, without 
opening her eyes. 

. Won’t you speak to me?” he asked, in a 
low voice. 

But gently as he spoke, she shivered, and, still 


MISSING^ A Young girl iob 

without opening her eyes, shrank forth r back 
into her chair. 

He laid his hand very lightly, very respect- 
fully, for a moment, on her arms. But before 
he could utter another word, she started up and 
stared at him, her lips moving, although no 
sound came from them. Her wild look Avrung 
his heart. 

Oh, Mary,” he cried, don’t look at me like 
that. It is not I who have brought this upon 
you, indeed it is not. This Bertin was a villain. 
You were not safe with him. But neither you 
nor Madame will suffer. Do you not believe 
that I will take care of you ? ” 

She heard, but she did not answer, did not 
understand. She uttered a sort of confused 
sound, and sank again into the chair, with her 
hands to her ears, as if the sound of his voice 
hurt her. Walter drew back a step with a 
groan. A light hand on his shoulder made him 
start. Turning, he saw Miss Halliday, her kind 
face full of concern. 

Let me speak to her,” she said. 

Mary’s eyes were fixed mournfully upon her. 
The slender little American woman went up to 
the girl, and put an arm fearlessly round her 
shoulders. Mary submitted, but shrinkingly. 

Will you let me take you into my room? ” 


104 


MISSING— A YOUNG GIRL. 


she said in a very soft whisper, having seized the 
fact that the girl was preternaturally sensitive to 
noise. It is quite near.’’ 

Mary looked at her, watched the movement of 
her lips, but shook her head. Evidently the 
lady’s words were merely a noise in her ears and 
had to her no meaning. Miss Halliday glanced 
up at Walter. Her face was full of pity for 
both man and maid. 

We must take her away — -from that^'^ said 
Ernestine, with a shuddering glance at the thing 
behind her on the floor. 

Then she took to pantomime to express her 
meaning, and succeeded better. With a few 
gestures of invitation she persuaded the girl to 
rise, and turning her head away from the Peru- 
vian’s body, over which a cloak had been thrown, 
she led her into Mrs. Plunket’s flat. The gen- 
darme left in charge of the body stopped Miss 
Halliday on her way out, and she had to explain 
to him that she was only taking the girl to 
another room on the same floor. He demurred a 
little, and only consented to this when he found 
that by standing at the door of Bertin’s flat he 
could command a view of that of Mrs. Plunket. 
The man was exceedingly civil, but explained 
that this precaution was absolutely necessary 
until the arrival of his superior officer, as the girl 


MISSING — A YO UNO GIRL, 


105 


might be accused of complicity in the crime. 
These words, which gave a great shock to 
Walter, fell unheeded upon Mary’s ears. 

Walter went back into the Bertins’ flat to try 
to comfort the murderer’s unfortunate wife. He 
found the task less difficult than he had expected, 
as the lady was sinking by this time into a state 
of half-stodgy, half-philosophical resignation to 
the inevitable. 

I knew it would come some day, I was cer- 
tain he would go too far. I always said so,” she 
murmured, clasping her hands and staring at the 
gendarme. And noAv it has come. He will 
be imprisoned, and I — I may starve, I suppose. 
Well, I have been near enough to that before. 
And they will not guillotine him : they will find 
extenuating circumstances, and he will get per- 
haps five years, perhaps ten. ffe hien ! O’est 
la volonte clu hon Dieii ! ” 

And, with a deep sigh, Madame settled herself 
further into the chair, and awaited the course of 
events. 

When Walter learned, on the arrival of a 
fresh contingent of police, that both Mary and 
Madame Bertin would have to be arrested on 
suspicion of complicity in the murder, he started 
up, with a vague British notion of disabling 
the officers of the law by personal combat, and 


106 


MISSING — yl YOUNG GIRL. 


carrying Mary off to a place of safety before 
their eyes. Fortuiiitely Miss Halliday acted as 
interpreter, and succeeded in convincing him that 
the arrest was only a matter of form, that the 
ladies would be most tenderly treated, and that 
they would be set free when their depositions 
had been taken. He himself was taken to a 
Bureau de Police^ where he made a statement, 
and was bound over to appear at the ensuing 
trial. 

He went back to his sister’s flat in a state of 
profound depression. His sister, who was exceed- 
ingly annoyed on hearing the unpleasant story in 
which he had played a part, checked her expres- 
sions of annoyance and disgust when she caught 
sight of his face. Miss Halliday, having made 
herself his friend in the matter, he permitted to 
lead him into the salJe a manger^ and give him 
some wine. After a long silence, which he did 
not attempt to break, he addressed her. 

What do you think — about it — about 
her?” 

Ernestine looked troubled. 

‘‘ I am afraid to say.” 

^^You think — good heavens! I can’t say it 1 
you think — she ” 

He touched his forehead. 

— am afraid so.” 


3nSSIjSrG — A YOUNG GIRL, - lOT 

After a pause Walter spoke again in a harsh 
whisper. His head was in his hands : he was 
broken down, miserable almost beyond endurance. 

Yet she Avrote to me as sensibly as you could 
have done. I — I will show you the letter.’’ 

He drew out his treasure and stooped over her 
as she read it. Ernestine sprang up from the 
perusal of it Avith a start. 

I have an idea, a good one,” she said. You 
must go to England at once — you can manage 
it — you can be back in time for the trial. You 
must find out the girl’s friends.” 

Madame Bertin would tell me nothing about 
them. I don’t know Iiqav to set about it.” 

Well, it’s got to be done, and the sooner you 
set about it the better.” 

W on’t you tell me Avhat your idea is ? ” 

^^No. You would stay here, trying to go to 
w^ork at the v/rong end, if I did. Go to-morrow 
morning. I will make it right Avith your sister as 
far as I can. But Avho knoAv§ ? I may be send- 
ing you to perdition.” 

Nonsense ! ” said Walter,' Avhat harm is 
there in a man’s choosing his oavii Avife ? ” 

Miss Halliday changed color a little. 

^^You don’t know yet whether she is even 
sane ! ” she said, rather impatiently. 

I am convinced that she is. There is some 


108 


MISSING — A YOUNG GIRL, 


mystery about her, of course, but I will not 
believe it is that.” 

And nothing short of that will prevent your 
marrying her ? ” 

Nothing.’ 

Well, I don’t know that I think the Avorse of 
you for being utterly unreasonable. Good-night. 

Good-night. Bless you for your goodness a 
thousand times.” 

Miss Halliday smiled, and looked down on his 
fair hair rather sadly as he bent his head to kiss 
her hand. 

His blessing for her — who would have 
worshipped him — his love for the girl who 
at the most would accept his worship. Well, 
well, it Avas the laAv of the Avorld. And, Avhen 
you come to think of it. Nature knoAvs Avhat she 
is about when she puts into a young man’s heart 
the determination to take to wife her who seems 
to him the fairest. 


CHAPTER X. 


Next morning Walter started for London, 
leaving a note of explanation for his sister, and 
referring her to Miss Halliday to fill the gaps in 
his somewhat incoherent narrative. Having had 
time on the journey to arrange his plans, he went 
straight to Scotland Yard. Here he made in- 
(piiries as to the man Bertin, who was, however, 
under that name at any rate, quite unknown 
there. Having explained that he had reason to 
suppose that this man and his wife had taken a 
young girl named Oakley from the custody of her 
friends, one of the police-officers before whom he 
made the statement repeated the name. 

Oakley ! Mary Oakley !' ” said he. I think 
there were bills out six months ago or so, about 
someone of that name.” 

A search was made in the books, and in a 
few minutes the inspector in charge cleared 


110 


JUS SING— A YOUNG GUiL. 


his throat and read out the following announce- 
ment : — 

MissinGj a Young Girl. 

Supposed to have been decoyed away from her 
friends. Tall, fair, pale complexion, of prepos- 
sessing appearance — deaf and dumh ” 

Walter started violently. The Avhole mystery 
fell to pieces in an instant. Her silence, her 
apparent indifference to what was passing around 
her the ease with which her friends’ search for 
her, had been evaded — all was explained. 

I see,” he exclaimed. That is she. Go on, 
please.” 

The officer read on — 

Name, Mary Oakley. Age, 18. Particulars 

to the Police, or to Mrs. Oakley, Street, 

London, W.” 

Walter got into a hansom and drove to the 
address given. It was a lodging-house of the 
dingy type. He asked for Mrs. Oakley, very 
much fearing that the lady would have gone 
away. The answer of the girl who opened the 
door, however, reassured him. 

Yes, sir. What name, sir ? ” 

In a few moments Walter was entering a bare- 
looking, shabbily furnished room on the second 
floor. 


3fISSmG — A YOUNG GIRL, 


111 


A tiny old lady, who seemed still redolent, amid 
the smuts and smoke of London, of the country 
fields and lanes Avhere she had passed her life, 
held out her left hand to him. Her face was 
quivering with excitement, and her voice was 
scarcely steady. 

You Avill forgive my left hand,’^ she began, 
as she put her little withered fingers in the young 
man’s broad palm, my right is paralyzed.” 

At every step fresh light was breaking in upon 
Walter. What could be easier, since the old 
lady could not write herself, than for the Bertins 
to deceive Mary with letters purporting to be dic- 
tated by her aunt ? 

I have brought you news of your niece Mary, 
madam,” he began. 

The old lady bent her head gravely. 

I knew it would come,” she said simply. 

The spirits told me so, and I waited patiently.” 

More light again. Marj", having been brought 
up by a believer in Spiritism,” had been an 
easy prey to the professional quackery of the 
Bertins. 

^^But it is not all good news that I bring,” he 
went on. She is at present in very unhappy 
circumstances, the people she is with- having 
brought themselves within reach of the law. But 
she will soon be free from that trouble. Only 


112 


MISSING — A YOUNG GIRL. 


— I am going to give her to you with one hand, 
only to take her away with the other.” 

‘‘ Ah ! ” said the old lady, “ that is always the 

I 5? 

way ! 

To W alter’s surprise, she asked him very few 
questions, and was evidently a simple-minded, 
superstitious creature, who took the world easily. 
She was, however, grateful to him for 2)utting an 
end to her anxiety, and she chatted away to him, 
giving him all the details of her own life and of 
Mary’s with a child-like ingenuousness Avhich was 
not without charm. 

Her poor husband had adopted his dead 
brother’s child when she was little more than a 
baby, the old lady said. Mary had lost her hear- 
ing through a fright when she was only a tiny 
child, learning to speak. Her vocal organs were 
unimpaired by the accident, but had been useless 
to her ever since, as, through not being able to 
hear, she could not learn to talk. 

She can only utter the few words she had 
already learnt when the accident happened,” went 
on Mrs. Oakley. 

Walter remembered the few baby words which 
had dropped so strangely from her lips in his 
sister’s salon. 

There was a clever doctor in our neighbor- 
hood,” continued Mrs. Oakley, who declared that 


MISSING — A YOUNG GIRL. 


113 


he did not believe her complete cure impossible. 
My poor husband, who was very ill at the time, 
made me promise to bring her to London, to one 
of the great ear-doctors. So when he was gone 
I did so. On our journey up we met a very 
clever man, who shared my own beliefs about the 
spirits of those we love,” and the look of the 
enthusiast shone in the little old lady’s eyes ; 

and he was much struck with Mary, and wanted 
to take her aw’ay to traA^el round the country 
with him and his wife. He said that he could 
teach her palmistry, and to read the stars,” went 
on Mrs. Oakley quite simply, “ and that she 
could earn enough to keep herself and me. For 
my poor husband left us very badly ofP.” And 
she gave another grave shake of the head. 
“ Mary was all for going with them, but I re- 
fused. We came on to London, and parted at 
the station from these people, and I thought little 
more about them. I found some quiet lodgings, 
where, as I thought, I could leave Mary safely 
while I went about visiting some old friends.” 

The old lady flushed a little, and Walter 
guessed that she had perhaps, in the new excite- 
ment of visiting, neglected her niece a little. 

“ Well,” she went on, “at last one day I came 
back, and found that she was gone. The land- 
lady said that some friends had called upon her. 


114 


MISSING — A YOUNG GIRL. 


whom Mary herself let into the house, and whom 
the woman did not see. She went out with 
them, and, as you know, she did not come back. 
I advertised : it was of no use. But I knew, for 
the spirits told me, that 1 should find her again 
some day.” 

And she sat back quite happily, with her little 
hands folded, and a pleased excitement in her eyes. 

Walter thought that this very silly old lady 
did not deserve to have her niece back at all, 
and his remorse at the thought of taking the girl 
from such a guardian melted away. He wrote a 
letter to Mary at her dictation, and then took his 
leave as quickly as possible. 

On the following evening Walter was again in 
Paris. He was pursued by an idea, a hope. A 
doctor had said that Mary’s deafness might be 
curable. Walter asked himself, remembering 
that strange new sensitiveness she had shown on 
the occasion of the murder, whether she was not 
cured ? As a shock had deprived her of hearing, 
might not another shock have restored it? Full 
of excitement he arrived at his sister’s flat. 
Ernestine Halliday was the first person to meet 
him. There was an expression on her face which 
made him ask what had happened. 

A miracle,” she answered with a very sweet 
smile, or almost a miracle,” ‘ 


MISSING— A YOUNG GIRL. 


115 


Walter stood still, scarcely daring to put the 
questions his hopes suggested. 

“Mary ” he said presently, while his lips 

trembled. 

“ She is here.” 

“ And — the miracle ? I know her secret. 
She — was deaf and dumb.” 

“Was deaf and dumb,” echoed Ernestine with 
tremulous lips. 

“ W ell ? ” said Walter in an eager whisper. 

“ She is not now. The shock has given her 
back her hearing. She can be taught to speak, 
if anyone can be found with sufficient patience 
to teach her.” 

Walter looked at her with tears starting to his 
eyes. 

“ Where is she ? ” he asked in a whisper. 

“ In the salon ; a celebrated aurist is with her 
now.” 

W alter looked at her gratefully. “ That is 
your doing,” he said. 

“ Of course. Would you grudge me a hand 
in your happiness ? ” 

Walter could not answer. Presently he en- 
tered the salon. Mary, who had not expected to 
see him, sprang up from her chair, clasping her 
hands. The great doctor smiled, held out his 
hand to Walter, and said something in French 


116 


MISSING — A YOUNG GIRL. 


which the young fellow was too stupefied with 
his happiness to fully understand. He made out, 
however, enough to understand that the girl’s 
infirmity was cured. Then the doctor with- 
drew, very quickly, very quietly ; so that the 
young people scarcely noticed when or how he 
went. 

Forgetting that, although she could now hear, 
she had not yet learnt to understand, Walter 
began to tell her about his journey and his find- 
ing her aunt. She shook her head and smiled, 
and said half mournfully, No, no,” in her baby 
language. Walter took up a pencil and paper, 
and wrote down the ^particulars of his discovery 
of her aunt. Then he glanced up at her with a 
flush on his face, looked down again, and wrote 
on : — 

Fve told her, though, that she can’t keep 
you.” Then he looked up again at Mary. She 
was watching his pencil, and blushing. On he 
scribbled again : — You will want someone to 
teach you to talk.” Again he paused. Then he 
put down the pencil, and stood up beside her. 

He said nothing for a minute or two, and did 
not even dare to look in her face. At last, how- 
ever, he ventured to raise her bent head with his 
hands, so that she could watch the movement of 
his lips. 


MISSING — A YOUNG GIRL. 


117 


‘‘Will you let me teach you?” he asked at 
last, very, very softly. 

She understood. 

Although Mary made rapid progress under- 
Walter’s tuition, both in talking and in uirder- 
standing what he said, he could not wait for her 
to learn to tell him by word of mouth the Avhole 
story of her life with the Bertins. She had to 
write out a full account of it for him, and to 
explain the methods by which, in spite of her 
late affliction, she was enabled to understand 
whatever they said to her. When they spoke 
English, she explained, she could follow the 
movements of their lips, as she had been brought 
up in England to do. She could, therefore, she 
admitted, have understood more than she had 
appeared to do of what Walter said at their first 
meeting, but for a feeling of shyness which 
caused her to keep her eyes away from his face. 
The Bertins had also a code of signals for small 
everyday occurrences, so that, for instance, the 
apparently angry stamp of the adventurer’s foot, 
which had so greatly incensed Walter, was 
merely a signal to Mary that it was time to come 
indoors. Her observation, too, was rendered so 
acute by the continual silenye in which she lived, 
that she could frequently tell, without looking 
round, Avhen another person had entered the 


118 


MISSING — A YOUNG GIBL, 


room, by the vibration of the floor. Thus it was 
that she had puzzled Walter on one occasion by 
seeming to hear the noiseless tread of M. Bertin 
on the balcony behind her, when, as a matter of 
fact, she had felt it. 

Mary added that the Bertins, no doubt seeing 
the professional value of the mystery her silence 
created, took every means to conceal the reason 
of it, and always professed to be utterly unable 
either to use or to understand the alphabet of 
the fingers. 

And until you came,” so ended Mary’s 
written narrative, I never wanted to speak. 
But after that I cried every night because I 
could not. For I knew very well that if you 
knew me for what I was, you could never think 
of me again ” 

Walter, who was reading over her shoulder as 
she wrote, stopped her pen, knelt down beside 
her, and added this one line : 

If you had remained deaf and dumb I should 
have married you just the same.” 

There was only one fact to add to her story ; 
and after another short lesson in speech, such as 
her indefatigable tutor was always ready to give 
her, Mary wrote it down : 

When I turned round in the salon that 
evening, and saw those awful sights — the hand 


MISSING— A YOUNG GIRL. 


119 


— the revolver — the man swaying as he stood 

— something seemed to break in my head, and a 
horrible torrent of sounds burst upon me. I did 
not understand ; I thought I had gone mad. 
All that day I was out of my senses, I think. 
The noise — the dinning noise — after the long, 
long quiet was unendurable. It was not till the 
night came, and I was alone, that suddenly it 
came into my mind that I was not deaf any 
more ; that I could hear, that I was cured ! 
Then, in spite of all the horrors of that day, I 
cried with tears of happiness. For I thought of 
you, and I said to myself : ‘ It is not wrong of 
me to think of him any more ! ’ ” 

The girl stooped low over her pen as she wrote 
these words, blushing for maidenly shame, trem- 
bling for happiness. It was only by force that 
Walter succeeded in getting a sight of those tell- 
tale words. 

And then he gave her another lesson, teaching 
her the old, old verb, which, in every language, 
we all learn so easily ! 

Of course a merciful French jury found exten- 
uating circumstances for M. Bertin ; and his 
wife was left to pursue their occult calling alone 
during the term of his imprisonment. She 
would have been well cared for by Walter in 
consideration of her real personal affection for 


120 


3nSSiyG — A YOtTNG GIBL. 


Mary ; but an uneasy conscience on the score of 
the kidnapping of the girl caused Madame Bertin 
to keep out of his way. For it was she who, 
during one of Mrs. Oakley’s absences from her 
London lodgings, had taken a letter to the girl, 
purporting to be from her aunt, saying that the 
latter had been called away into the country for 
a day or two, and recommending Mary to accept 
Madame Bertin’s invitation to spend the time 
with her. Then it had been easy to deceive the 
girl by a series of letters written by a confederate 
of the Bertins from London, which Mary sup- 
posed to have been dictated by her aunt. Her 
answers to these letters were always taken by M. 
Bertin “ to post : ” it is needless to say that Mrs. 
Oakley never received them. Thus they were 
enabled to leave the country without exciting the 
suspicions of the innocent girl, who, being assured 
in one of the made-up letters that her aunt had 
no longer any objection to her earning her living- 
in the way M. Bertin had proposed, was by that 
gentleman instructed in his so-called science of 
palmistry, and became by her beauty a very valu- 
able attraction to his stances. Although she 
had been vaguely uneasy and unhappy with 
these people, their conduct towards her had been 
so careful that she had never suspected their integ- 
rity until W alter Drake appeared upon the scene. 


MISSING — A YOUNG GIUL. 


121 


They were married almost immediately, iu 
spite of Mrs. Plunket’s protests. And Ernestine 
Halliday, having developed an inclination to 
matrimony, became the wife of a middle-aged 
English gentleman, in every way worthy of her, 
and in every way a more suitable match for her 
than Walter. 

But to the end of her days she will cherish the 
belief that it was Walter she loved best. 


THE END. 


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